


The Wolf Waits Below

by pineapplefan



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Sick Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 40,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplefan/pseuds/pineapplefan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An act of courage leads to some debilitating results.</p><p>There's only so much fight in a guy. Post-Book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They were late. Twenty minutes late. They said they were coming right home after work.

Darry sighed and drummed his fingers on his armrest. Ponyboy was sprawled out on the couch, his nose buried in a book. He hadn't said anything, but Darry kept catching him glancing at the clock. He was worried too.

After everything that had happened, it was hard not to be worried, even about the smallest things.

"We'll give them ten minutes," Darry told Pony. "And then we'll go lookin'."

Pony bit down on his lip and nodded, glancing one more time at the clock.

Darry picked up his newspaper and started reading the sports section. Something to distract himself while the seconds continued to tick by.

At exactly ten minutes, he and Pony jumped up at the same time, prepared to go on a manhunt for Soda and Steve. They had just finished putting on their shoes when they heard the truck pull up outside the house.

"Oh, thank god," Darry breathed. He opened the screen door and peered out.

Soda was helping Steve out of the truck.

Darry's eyes widened as they came up the drive, Soda's arm wrapped tightly around Steve's waist, helping him walk.

He quickly went to their aid, positioning himself on the other side of Steve, looking the boys over carefully as he helped them in the house.

Aside from a busted lip, Soda appeared to be unscathed.

Steve, on the other hand, looked like he'd been to hell and back. His face was beaten badly, his clothes torn, his head resting on Soda's shoulder. But the most troubling thing about Steve's appearance was the pool of blood seeping through his white T-shirt, just over the right side of his abdomen.

"What the hell happened?" Darry demanded, as he helped ease Steve into the couch.

"Steve's a fuckin' lunatic, that's what happened," Soda answered, his voice shaking. "He tried to break up a fight."

"They pulled a blade," Steve protested weakly. "On a _kid_. Couldn't've been older than Ponyboy."

"They cut him real bad, Dar," Soda said, pulling Steve's shirt over his head so Darry could take a look. "I wanted to take him to the hospital but he begged me to bring him home."

"It's jus' a knick," Steve mumbled. "I don't need a hospital. It looks worse than it is."

"You're bleedin' like a stuck pig, Steve," Darry told him matter-of-factly. "Ponyboy, go grab some towels, huh?"

Pony nodded obediently and disappeared out of the room.

"We have to stop the bleeding first," Darry said. He stepped into the bathroom and washed his hands thoroughly. Then he returned and knelt down by Steve.

"Here," Ponyboy said. He handed Darry three dishtowels from the kitchen.

"Thanks, Pone," Darry said. To Steve he said, "This'll sting, man."

Steve squeezed his eyes closed. He knew it would. They all knew. They'd all needed patching up before. He took a hitched breath, and Darry took it as his cue.

He pressed the towel down onto Steve's wound, holding it firmly in place.

"Gah!" Steve panted at the touch. "Shit."

"It's alright man," Soda said softly, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder for comfort. "It won't hurt so bad in a minute."

While Darry kept a firm hold on the towel, he asked for more specific details of what had happened.

"We were closing up the shop at the DX, when we heard some hollerin' down the street," Soda said.

"Socs?" Ponyboy asked.

Soda nodded. "They were jumpin' a kid younger than you, Pony. Three against one, and they were big. Probably football players. And like Steve said, they pulled a blade." He let out a deep breath. "Before I could stop him, Steve went charging down the street at 'em." Soda looked down at his friend. "What the hell were you thinkin', man? You didn't even wait for me to back you up."

"I just wanted to help the kid," Steve breathed. "You're right, I wasn't thinkin'."

"You haven't been thinkin' a lot lately," Soda said, clearly aggravated. "Not since—"

"Don't say it," Steve interrupted through gritted teeth. "I ain't havin' this argument again." He closed his eyes, his jaw set.

Darry, puzzled, raised an eyebrow and stole a glance at Soda. Pony too, looked confused. Soda just shook his head as if to say _not now._

Darry sighed heavily as he placed another towel on top of the original. Some blood had started to seep through the first. "How're you holdin' up Steve?" he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

"I'm fine," he answered tiredly. "Can we turn on the TV?"

"Sure," Darry told him. "Soda?"

Soda mumbled something under his breath that Darry didn't quite catch. He turned on the TV and switched the dial until he landed on something worth watching: reruns of _Dragnet_. Then he disappeared into the kitchen. Ponyboy followed.

Steve sighed after him.

"What's going on with you two?" Darry wondered out loud.

"Nothing, Darry. Leave it."

Darry nodded and turned his head to look at the TV. But his attention was somewhere else completely.

It had been almost two months since the night Johnny and Dallas died, and none of the gang had quite been the same. Especially Steve.

A lot had happened to him in those two months, and Darry was afraid he was just barely holding it together.

First, Steve caught Evie with another guy, and he ended it. That was just five days after burying Johnny and Dallas, and it about broke him in pieces.

Steve practically shut down after that. Darry could tell by the dark circles under his eyes, the unfocused gaze, the way his voice shook when he spoke. He was dealing with heartbreak on top of grief. A crippling combination. The upside - if you can call it that - was that Soda had been through the same thing with Sandy. He knew what Steve was going through, and he was there for him. Empathetic if nothing else.

But it didn't stop there.

A week later, Steve's dad kicked him out. For good.

Darry still remembers his shock when he pulled open the front to see Steve standing on the doorstep with tears streaming down his face, a single duffel bag in his hands. He remembers how Steve hung his head, asking Darry if he could please stay with them - he didn't know for how long. He remembers Steve collapsing into Soda's arms, and the look of fear in Sodapop's eyes.

Because Steve was Soda's best friend, and he was crumbling fast. Because now Steve wasn't just dealing with heartbreak and grief - he was dealing with abandonment too.

They were all pretty messed up as it was, with Ponyboy getting over being sick, and the trial, not to mention burying two of their closet friends… Steve showing up like that had just been icing on the fucking cake.

"I think the bleeding's stopped," Darry announced to Steve, bringing himself back to the present. "Sit up, man."

Steve obeyed, trying to hide a grimace as he hoisted himself up into the sitting position.

"Why don't you take a shower and clean it up real good?" Darry suggested. "I'll wrap it for you once you're dry."

Steve nodded. "Okay," he said. "Thanks." He stood up unevenly. Darry stood with him.

"You need any help?" he asked unsurely.

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine," he answered through tight lips.

The past few weeks that Steve had lived with them, Darry had tried not to be "parental" with him like he was with Soda and Pony. But sometimes he couldn't help it. Now was one of those times.

"You've got to be more careful, Steve," Darry told him lightly. "I worry about you, you know."

"Yeah, I know you do," Steve said, his voice soft. "But do yourself a favor, and quit gettin' gray hairs over me."

"I don't have any gray hairs," Darry said promptly.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Superman." Steve managed to give Darry a reassuring smile. "Really. I'm okay."

_I_ _'_ _m okay_. The broken record mantra Steve had been living by the past several weeks. The mantra none of them bought for a single second.

Because Steve was losing weight, and losing sleep, and Darry was worried that pretty soon he'd lose his sanity too.

Steve might not want to admit it, but he was teetering on the edge.

And they were going to be there if he fell.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

It was the middle of the night. Three o'clock in the morning, to be exact. Sodapop stood over the kitchen sink, staring mindlessly out the window into the backyard. He held a glass of water in his hand, but he wasn't drinking it.

He was tired. So  _damn_  tired.

This had become his routine.

Sometimes he could manage a few hours of sleep before he'd wake up, mind spinning and thoughts racing. He'd lie in bed, desperately trying to fall back asleep, before he gave up entirely. He'd focus on Ponyboy's light snores or chirps from the crickets outside. Anything to keep his mind off his troubles. But somehow, he always ended up here. In the kitchen. Wide awake.

Tonight, he hadn't even slept a wink. How could he?

He was worried. So  _damn_  worried.

With a heavy sigh, Soda sunk into a chair, elbows resting on the kitchen table. He ran his hands through his tufts of hair, wondering when in the world he became  _this guy_. This guy, who sits up late at night, worrying and thinking and worrying some more.

A year ago he didn't have a care in the world, save for maybe a Soc or two.

But then again, a year ago, his parents hadn't been killed in a car wreck. Darry hadn't been forced to give up his college dreams. Ponyboy hadn't run off to Windrixville. Dallas Winston and little Johnny Cade hadn't died too early. Social services hadn't been breathing down their necks. Sandy hadn't left. Evie hadn't cheated. Old man Randle hadn't snapped. Soda hadn't felt like he was losing his best friend.

It's amazing how much can change in a year.

"Sodapop?"

A voice broke into Soda's inner turmoil and he looked up to find Darry standing at the doorway, arms folded across his chest.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Darry joked lightly, dropping his arms and taking a seat across from his brother at the table. Darry was notorious for not being able to sleep, and it wasn't uncommon that the two of them would cross paths in the middle of the night.

Soda gave him a half-hearted smile. "Tell me about it."

Darry was looking him over from across the table, eyes scanning his face. Soda knew what he was going to say before he said it. "You look exhausted, Soda. You can't keep doing this."

"Look who's talkin'," Soda retorted. "You ain't exactly the poster boy for getting a good night of sleep either, Dar."

Darry chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I know that," he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "But don't you think one insomniac in the family is enough?"

"More than enough."

"So why don't you go back to bed, huh?" Darry asked. "You need your sleep."

"I can't, Darry. I'm wide awake."

Darry sighed. "Listen kid, I know Steve gave you a scare today. But he's okay. He's still in one piece."

Sodapop swallowed hard. "I know… it's just…" He could feel himself starting to get worked up, so he trailed off. He'd told Darry his concerns about Steve before. How Steve seemed to have lost all his sense of self-worth, how he barely said a word anymore, how he hadn't cracked a genuine smile in ages…

"I know you're worried about him, Soda," Darry said softly, reading his mind. "We all are. But you have to remember he's been through a lot. Hell, we all have."

Soda nodded. "I know," he said looking down at the table.

Darry tilted his head at Soda. "You said something to him today, didn't you?" he asked, obviously referring to the little squabble he and Steve had had earlier, while Darry was patching him up.

Soda grimaced. "Yeah, I did."

"What'd you say?"

"I told him that he wasn't himself, and I dunno, that made him really upset." Soda remembered how it had turned into a heated discussion. Soda had even noticed that he'd sounded a lot like Darry, saying things like "you're living in a vacuum" and "you don't just stop living because you lose someone."

"So what happened?" Darry pressed.

Soda shrugged. "We made up. I apologized and told him I was just worried about him."

"And?"

"He told me there was nothing to worry about, same as always," Soda sighed. "But then he went charging down the street at those Socs - playing a goddamn hero like some sort of suicide mission - and screw him if he thinks that ain't gonna worry me."

"Soda, look at me," Darry said gently. He didn't continue until Soda's eyes met his. "Steve might feel like he's lost a lot - and he has - but he still has you, and me, and Two-Bit, and hell, even Ponyboy has his back. He's going to be just fine. I promise."

Soda looked down at the table as he let Darry's words sink in. And he actually allowed himself to believe what he was saying. Steve was going to be okay, because they wouldn't have it any other way.

Soda glanced at his older brother with a slight raise of the head. "Thanks," he told Darry sincerely. Because he always made Soda feel like he wasn't alone.

"Sure," Darry said hoarsely.  
 _  
_They sat in silence for a long while before Darry spoke again. "Hey Soda, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was nervous, that much Soda could tell. "I figure now's as good a time as any."

Soda snapped into attention at Darry's demeanor. "Sure," he said, furrowing his brow in his brother's direction. "What?"

Darry let out a deep breath. Whatever he was trying to say certainly wasn't easy. "We have a tough anniversary coming up," he said finally.

Soda tensed. He knew exactly what Darry was talking about. Two days from now would mark the one-year anniversary of their parents' death. "Right," he said softly over the lump in his throat.

Darry cleared his throat gruffly. "Has Pony mentioned it you at all?" he asked.

Sodapop shook his head. "No," he answered. But he was sure Ponyboy knew it was coming up. They all did. Soda had been dreading that day for almost a month now. "Why?"

"I was thinking we should visit their gravesite," Darry said. He started chewing on his lip in anticipation of his brother's reaction.

Soda swallowed. Darry had offered to take Pony and Soda back to the cemetery several times following the burial of their parents, but each time his brothers had declined. Soda always felt it would be too hard. And so Darry had stopped asking. He hadn't asked in almost six months.

"I don't know, Dar…" Soda said unsurely.

"Just run it by Pony, okay?" Darry said calmly. "I think it'd be good for us. I think it's time."

Soda nodded vaguely. "Okay," he agreed, a yawn escaping his lips before he could stop it.

Darry gazed at him, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "You  _are_ tired."

"Doesn't mean I'll be able to sleep," Soda returned.

Darry folded his arms across his chest, not hesitating to switch from "brother" to "guardian." "Well, you need to try," he said sternly. He nodded his head at the doorway. "Go back to bed."

Soda was only going back to bed on one condition. "I'll go if you go."

Darry grinned at him. "Deal."

With that, they both lifted their tired bones from the table and headed into their respective rooms.


	3. Chapter 3

"Two-Bit, our lives are pathetic," Ponyboy grumbled, as he plopped a playing card down in front of his friend. "Do you realize we've spent the last three days playing War?"

"Nothing wrong with that, kid," Two-Bit said, flashing Pony a grin. "All we're doin' is takin' it easy. That's what summer vacation is for!"

Ponyboy rolled his eyes. "Some people get  _jobs_  in the summer, Two-Bit. Ever think about working a day of your life?"

"Shoot kid, now you're startin' to sound like my mother."

Two-Bit had been coming over every day since school let out. Even though Ponyboy suspected Darry had asked Two-Bit to come over to keep an eye on him, he was glad Two-Bit was always around. He didn't like being alone. Not anymore.

These days, he liked keeping the people he loved in sight. Because if they were in sight, they were safe.

The whole gang - rather, the  _remainder_ of the gang - had all become sort of obsessive about that sort of thing. If they weren't all together, they kept tabs on where everyone was. They had each others' work schedules memorized. They knew when and where everybody was supposed to be at all times.

Not only that, they barely did anything anymore. It seemed like they were going out less. For instance, instead of going out on a Friday night, they'd stay in, play poker, watch movies… It seemed like everyone was perfectly content with holing up at the Curtis house.

Ponyboy understood it - why everyone became accustomed to staying in all of a sudden. It started because of him. He'd been sick shortly after returning from Windrixville. Really sick. And the gang never left his side during that time. Even Steve stayed with him - though Pony was sure that was more for Soda's benefit.

In addition to being sick, Ponyboy hadn't been right in the head. Reality was a blurred line, and there were times when he got so confused and upset about what happened in Windrixville that the gang stopped bringing it up all together. And he was in complete denial about Johnny and Dallas's passing for a long time following their deaths.

He feels a little embarrassed about it now, being so sick and confused… adding to the grief his friends were already experiencing after losing two of their closest buddies.

Soda told him not to sweat it.  _You were sick, Pony. It wasn_ _'_ _t your fault. You_ _'_ _re better now, and that_ _'_ _s all that matters._

Ponyboy  _was_ better now, for the most part. He still didn't like to think about Windrixville or Dallas or especially Johnny, but he'd allowed himself to accept the truth.

Ponyboy was no longer the focus of the gang's worry.

That honor belonged to Steve now.

Shortly after the trial, Steve's life went to hell. More so than it already had. And even Ponyboy felt for the guy. He really did.

All Steve did these days was sleep and mope around. He rarely ate. He rarely talked. He rarely smiled. He didn't even pick on Ponyboy anymore.

In other words, after everything that had happened, it seemed like the life had been sucked right out of the gang. And Ponyboy missed how it used to be.

Now that school was out, Ponyboy was starting to go a little stir crazy. So often he found himself trapped in his thoughts and daydreams, just wishing he had a distraction from the life going on around him. Because right now his mind was a dangerous place, and Ponyboy didn't like daydreaming as much as he used to.

He'd talked with Darry about the possibility of getting a job. At his age, he wasn't allowed to do much, but he would have been able work a few hours a day bagging groceries or washing cars.

Darry told him he didn't think it was a good idea.  _You need to take it easy for a while, Ponyboy. I don_ _'_ _t want you working yet. Just be a kid._

And that had been the end of the discussion.

So this is what Ponyboy's life had come to. Playing - and losing - card games with Two-Bit.

"Beat ya again!" Two-Bit exclaimed happily, after the game came to an end. "We should start playing for smokes."

"Not a chance, Mathews," Ponyboy said. "If I'm gonna be stuck playing card games with you every day, I'm gonna need all the smokes I can get."

Two-Bit feigned surprise. "Are you telling me I'm doing an inadequate job keeping you entertained?" he asked, a grin creeping onto his face. "I'm hurt, Ponyboy. Hurt!"

Pony sighed and shifted in his seat. He was particularly antsy today, and he knew why.

He'd been dreading this day for months now. They all had. It was the anniversary of their parents' fatal car accident and Ponyboy hadn't known how well he'd be able to handle it. So far, it felt like any old day, except for the fact that later they were going to visit their parents' graves. Ponyboy had an uncomfortable feeling in his gut about that.

"I just want to get out of the house, I guess," he said finally, flicking a playing card across the table.

Two-Bit chuckled. "You should've just said so. What do you want to do kid? We can go see what's playing at the movie house. I'll treat ya."

Ponyboy considered Two-Bit's offer. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"It's a deal, then," Two-Bit said, standing up. "We need to eat lunch first, though."

Ponyboy didn't have much of an appetite, but he agreed. Mainly because he could hear Two-Bit's stomach growling from across the table.

* * *

They never made it to the movie house.

As they were finishing up their grilled cheese sandwiches, Sodapop came in the front door with Steve following reluctantly.

Ponyboy raised his eyebrows. "You guys know your shift's not over yet, right?" he asked.

Soda sighed. "Yeah we know that. We're on our lunch break." He ushered Steve over to a kitchen chair, and Steve sat down heavily. "Boss asked me to bring Steve home. He's not feelin' too good."

"I'm fine. I just have a headache," Steve grumped.

Steve sure didn't look fine. He was paler than Ponyboy had ever seen him. And Pony could actually see shivers run up and down his spine.

"A headache so bad you almost passed out talking to customer," Soda reminded him easily. He walked over to the cabinet above the sink to grab Steve some meds.

Two-Bit put the back of his hand against Steve's forehead. "Feels like you're runnin' a little hot, too," he commented.

"I'm fine," Steve said again, accepting the meds Soda pressed into his palm. "I just need to sleep it off." With that, he stood, and retired into the spare bedroom.

Soda sighed after him. "You guys will keep an eye on him, right?" he asked tiredly.

"'Course, Soda," Ponyboy said, picking up on his brother's worry for his friend. To Two-Bit, he said, "Raincheck?"

Two-Bit gave him a half-hearted smile. "Sure, kid."

It was then that Soda pulled Ponyboy aside.

"You doin' okay, today?" he asked.

Ponyboy knew he was asking because of what day it was. "Yeah, Soda, I'm okay," he assured him. "Are you doin' all right?" Because he could tell his brother was struggling more than he was today.

Soda shifted uncomfortably, eyes glossy with unshed tears. He ran his hands through his hair. "I just want this day to be over, you know?" he said, his voice wavering slightly.

"Yeah, I know," Pony said softly. "Hang in there, Soda."

Soda managed to give him a half-hearted smile. "You too, Pony." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and then ruffled Ponyboy's hair. "I'll see you later."

With that, he slipped back out the door, leaving as quickly as he came.

And Ponyboy returned to the kitchen to play yet another game of War.


	4. Chapter 4

"He's been asleep this whole time?" Darry asked softly, pressing the back of his hand against Steve's forehead.

Ponyboy nodded from the doorway.

Sodapop stood behind his youngest brother, watching intently while Darry checked on his best friend.

Steve was sound asleep when Darry got home from work and Two-Bit wasted no time in bringing him up to speed, filling him in on how Steve's boss sent him home that day.  _Soda said he almost collapsed while talking to a customer._ Darry didn't like the sound of that. Not one bit.

Darry drew his hand back, grimacing at how warm Steve was. "Think we should wake him?" he asked. "He should probably eat something…"

"Yeah," Soda agreed lowly. "He skipped breakfast  _and_  lunch. H-He hasn't eaten anything all day, 'cept a candy bar at the DX."

Darry tilted his head at his brother. It didn't go unnoticed by him that Soda's voice shook when he spoke, and he wondered if it was out of concern for Steve or the hard reminder that their parents were gone. If he had to guess, he'd say it was a combination of the two.

Darry cleared his throat gruffly, getting back to the matter at hand. "Ponyboy, go grab the thermometer," he instructed as he knelt down beside Steve. Soda approached the foot of the bed carefully while Darry lightly shook Steve awake. "Hey, Steve, wake up for me, man."

Steve opened his bleary eyes. "Hmm?" he mumbled. "Darry?"

"Yeah, kid," Darry said. "How're you feelin'? He helped pulled Steve up into the sitting position, trying to ignore how pale and frail he looked.

Steve seemed to consider the question as he ran his hands through his hair. "I'm all right, I guess," he said hoarsely. He squinted at the clock hanging on the wall. "What time is it?"

"Almost six o'clock, man," Soda told him. "You've been asleep for over five hours."

Steve didn't seem phased by that news. "Oh," he said softly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

It was that moment that Ponyboy returned to the room.

Steve rolled his eyes as Ponyboy handed the thermometer over to Darry. He knew what was coming. "Is that really necessary?" he asked, eyeing the device reluctantly.

"You're burnin', Steve," Darry reasoned. "So yeah, it's necessary." He stuck the thermometer under Steve's tongue before he could protest again. To Soda, he said, "Keep your eye on him."

Then he retired to the kitchen where Two-Bit was heating up some supper.

Ponyboy followed.

Mrs. Mathews had made a casserole for the Curtises and sent it with Two-Bit that morning when he came over. Darry appreciated the gesture. Some days he just didn't feel like cooking. And the anniversary of his parents' deaths was definitely one of those days.

"How's it comin'?" Darry asked. Two-Bit was squatting in front of the oven.

"Almost done," he announced, standing up and turning around to face Darry. "How's Steve-o?"

Darry let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding in. "He's sick," he said, to put it simply. "I dunno, man. He doesn't look good."

That didn't seem to be the answer Two-Bit wanted to hear. He opened his mouth to comment, but was interrupted by the timer on the stove.

"Help me set the table?" Darry asked Ponyboy while Two-Bit tended to the oven.

Ponyboy nodded mutely and went to the silverware drawer to grab forks while Darry fetched the plates.

"Darry, are we still going to the cemetery tonight?" Ponyboy asked as they laid out five places at the table.

Darry hesitated. He thought going to the cemetery was the right thing to do. He felt in would be a testament to his parents' memory. "I think we should," he answered Pony. "You still okay with going?" Darry wanted both of his brothers to be there, but if they were truly adamant about not going, he wasn't going to push it. That wouldn't be fair.

Ponyboy shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I guess so," he sighed. The apprehension seemed to come off him in waves.

"It'll be okay, Pone," Darry assured him softly, meeting his youngest brother's eyes. "I think you'll be glad you went."

Ponyboy bit down on his lip, but nodded.

"I think y'all should go, too," Two-Bit chimed in, sensing Ponyboy's uneasiness. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on Steve." He gave Pony a reassuring wink.

Steve chose that exact moment to enter the kitchen. "You don't have to 'keep and eye on me.'" he grumbled. "I'm not five years old."

"Hey, watch your attitude, Mister," Two-Bit joked, pointing a wooden serving spoon at Steve, who honestly, looked like a zombie. "That's no way to treat your baby-sitter."

Steve might've been sick, but he still mustered enough strength to flip the bird at Two-Bit as he sunk into a kitchen chair. Ponyboy and Darry chuckled at their antics and settled down into their own chairs.

Soda entered the room moments later and took a seat beside Darry as Two-Bit set the chicken-broccoli casserole down on the table. Soda leaned into Darry's ear. "101," he whispered, letting Darry know the extent of Steve's fever.

Darry swallowed and nodded once. Could be better. Could be worse. Nothing to be alarmed about.

Yet.

* * *

Dinner passed by in silence.

This was a hard day. For all of them.

It was strange how nothing was spoken during that meal, but so much was said:

Despite Mrs. Mathews impeccable cooking, her casserole was barely touched. That meant  _we are too saddened by the reminder of this loss to eat properly_.

The subtle glances each boy gave one another meant  _we are all hurting, but I_ _'_ _m checking to make sure you_ _'_ _re okay._

When Two-Bit fetched glasses and filled them with champagne, no one had to be told to raise their glass in a toast.

_To Mr. Darrel and Mrs. Lorraine Curtis, we love you and miss you more each day._


	5. Chapter 5

Soda stood with his arms wrapped around Ponyboy's chest, resting his chin on the top of his head. They were standing about fifteen yards away from their parents' graves, watching as Darry knelt down and laid some flowers down in front of the tombstones.

"You doin' okay?" Soda asked softly, giving his brother a tight squeeze.

"Yeah," Ponyboy whispered back, grasping Soda's hands against his chest. "Are you?"

Soda swallowed. He wasn't okay. Not by a long-shot. Being at the cemetery was eerie; the sun was starting to set and it was deadly quiet all around. Soda's over-active imagination wasn't helping matters, either. He didn't like thinking about the fact that he was standing on hundreds upon hundreds of bones. Some of which belonged to his parents. The thought made him feel sick.

"Yeah, Pony, I'm okay," he lied, trying to keep the shake out of his voice.

"C'mon," Ponyboy said, tugging Soda's arm a little. "Let's go sit with Darry."

Soda let out a deep breath and followed Ponyboy's lead as they approached their parents' tombstones carefully.

Darry smiled warmly as they took a seat; Soda dropped down beside him, and Ponyboy settled in next to Soda.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Darry asked, gazing at the sun setting beyond the hills in the distance.

It was. The remaining clouds were brilliantly colored; deep reds, and oranges, and yellows painted the sky. Soda almost felt dizzy looking at it. It had the depth to bring on a sense of vertigo: an image so fantastic that anybody in its wake would feel insignificant.

The beauty of the sunset only intensified Soda's pain. How could something so beautiful coexist with the anguish he felt coursing through his veins? He felt as though he was being taunted. Teased.

While his brothers looked on in awe, Sodapop glared back at the swirls of color, silently cursing their mocking blaze of appeal.

"Beautiful," Ponyboy breathed in agreement to Darry's admission, leaning his cheek against Soda's shoulder.

Soda put an arm around his brother. He didn't trust himself to speak.

The boys let silence consume them, arms wrapped around one another, each trapped in their own thoughts.

And the longer they sat there, the more Soda felt a strange sense of peace come over him.

He was sandwiched in between his two brothers - the two people he held closest to his heart - and he felt secure.

He also started to feel the presence of his mom and dad, whether it was the breeze that rattled the trees or the soft melodies from the birds in the distance; he knew that Lorraine and Darrel were there with them.

He felt a tear slip down his cheek as the overwhelming warmth came over him.

Because they were all together again.

Sodapop could feel it in his bones.

And he felt whole.

Soda glanced at his brothers and noticed they they, too, had tears glistening on their cheeks. Whether it was from sadness or happiness, he wasn't sure.

Perhaps it was a combination of the two.

The boys stayed in the cemetery until the last bit up sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Then they stood up in unison, whispering, "We love you, Mom and Dad."  _We_ _'_ _ll be back soon._

* * *

Upon arriving home, Sodapop held Darry back before going inside.

"What is it?" Darry asked, reaching out to thumb away tears on Soda's cheeks that he hadn't even known were there.

Soda took in a deep breath. "Thank you, Darry," he said softly, meeting his oldest brother's eyes sincerely. "You were right. T-That's what we needed. That's what  _I_ needed."

Darry nodded knowingly, a sad smile creeping onto his lips. "You did good, little buddy," he said softly, pulling Soda in for a hug. "I'm proud of you."

Soda relaxed into the embrace, burying his face into the crevice of Darry's neck. And Darry held him tightly, knowing that's what his brother needed.

"C'mon," Darry said finally, pulling away and running his hand through Sodapop's hair. "Let's go check on Steve."

* * *

Two-Bit was sprawled out on the floor with a deck of cards, playing a game of solitaire, when Soda and Darry stepped in the door. The TV was on in the background.

"Looks like you had a productive evening," Darry commented lightly.

"Sure did," Two-Bit said happily, collecting the cards to put them back in the box. "I won five games out of seven, thank you very much." He glanced up. "How'd it go? Ponyboy seemed glad he went…"

"Yeah, it was good," Darry told him, squeezing Soda's shoulders from behind. "Right, Soda?"

Soda nodded distractedly. "How'd it go here?" he asked. "Where's Steve?"

Two-Bit thumbed over his shoulder. "He's in the bedroom. He was complainin' about a stiff back earlier so he went to lie down. He popped a few more Tylenols too."

"How's his temp?" Darry asked.

"Stayin' steady at 101," Two-Bit reported.

Soda nodded and excused himself down the hall to assess Steve for himself.

He was surprised when he found Steve awake. He was lying on his back, head propped up by pillows. He was reading the newspaper, his knees angled so he could rest the paper against them.

Soda knocked softly on the doorframe before stepping in the door.

"Hey," Steve said, setting newspaper down and pushing himself further into the the sitting position so Soda could have a seat on the foot of the bed.

"Hey yourself," Soda returned, sitting carefully on the bed. "Didn't think you'd still be up."

Steve shrugged. "I wanted to be awake when you got back," he said. "Make sure you're okay."

"Oh," Soda breathed, looking down at his hands. "I'm okay." He glanced back up at Steve and found Steve's eyebrows raised in concern.

"You sure?" Steve asked. "Because that didn't sound very convincing."

Soda managed a light-hearted laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure, man," Soda said honestly. "I'm just tired. It was good. Really."

Steve nodded. "Good," he said firmly.

Soda cleared his throat gruffly, hoping to get the focus off himself. "What about you, man? You feelin' any better? Two-Bit said your back was hurtin'."

"Yeah, it was really killin' me earlier," Steve said, and Soda was surprised by his honesty. "Feels a little better now though. Think I just need to sleep it off."

It was that moment when Darry stepped into the room, holding a glass of water. "Hey, Steve," he greeted, setting the water down on the nightstand. "You thirsty?"

"Actually, yeah," Steve said, grabbing the glass off the surface. "Thanks, Darry."

"You're welcome, kid," Darry said, pressing his hand against Steve's forehead, eyes wandering to the paper laying on the bed. "Were you reading the sports section?"

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, I was. It'd be a hell of a lot more entertaining if Tulsa actually had a team worth a damn."

Darry laughed. "Amen."

Steve took a sip of water and then set it back down on the nightstand. He glanced at Soda, then at Darry, then back at Soda. "You guys look exhausted. You should go to bed."

It was almost comical hearing that come out of Steve's mouth, because he was the one that looked the  _most_ exhausted. But Soda and Darry  _were_  tired. So they listened.

"Wake us up if you need anything, Steve," Soda said.

He got an eye roll and a reluctant, "okay," in return.

Darry and Soda exited the room together and then retired into their own bedrooms after exchanging goodnights.

By the time Soda got into bed, Ponyboy was already sound asleep. Soda hooked an arm around the kid and pulled him close.

They'd done it.

They'd made it through the first anniversary.

Life went on.


	6. Chapter 6

Before Mr. and Mrs. Curtis passed away, Darry and Sodapop shared a bedroom. Now, neither of them sleep in that room.

Darry has since moved into his parents' old bedroom. He hadn't been too eager to move in there at first. He'd waited weeks after their passing to finally make the move. Ponyboy didn't blame him. He still didn't like setting foot in there.

Sodapop vacated the room shortly after Darry, when Ponyboy's nightmares started to get really bad. They found that his nightmares were less intense when Sodapop stayed with him at night. So Soda decided to move in with him all together.

Which meant when Steve came around, he had a room to call his own.

Only it didn't look like his own. That's what Ponyboy realized as he stood in the doorway, gazing at Steve's form on the bed.

The walls were bare: no posters or pictures or anything that even had the slightest semblance of Steve Randle. The single duffle bag he'd brought lay on the floor. It didn't look like a bedroom, Ponyboy thought vaguely. It looked like a prison cell.

"He still asleep?" Two-Bit's hushed voice startled Ponyboy from behind him.

Ponyboy collected himself before answering. "Yeah," he confirmed with a sigh. "I was just checkin' on him."

Two-Bit bobbed his head up and down in understanding, slinging an arm around Pony's shoulders and leading him back out to the TV room. "He had a rough night last night, huh?"

Ponyboy nodded vaguely. Steve had been awfully ill last night. Pony shuddered as the memory of it all came over him.

_"_ _Soda?_ _"_ _a voice called out._ _"_ _Soda._ _"_

_Ponyboy was pulled out of consciousness as a voice echoed down the hall. Even in his dazed state, he could sense that something was wrong. Sodapop was stirring beside him, rubbing a tired hand across his eyes._

" _Darry?_ _"_ _A whimper. A moan._ _"_ _Soda?_ _"_

_Ponyboy_ _'_ _s stomach dropped as he realized it was Steve calling out to them._

_The realization hit Sodapop too, and the pair were on their feet in an instant._ _"_ _Something_ _'_ _s wrong,_ _"_ _Pony heard his brother murmur to himself as he bolted out of the bedroom, Ponyboy on his heels. He skidded to a halt in front of Steve_ _'_ _s room, flipping on the light switch._

_Steve was lying on his back, propped up on his elbows. He_ _'_ _d vomited all over himself and the sheets and Ponyboy could see tears glistening on his cheeks. From the way Steve was swallowing convulsively, it looked as though nausea was still a pressing matter. He gazed at Soda and Pony with horror-stricken eyes._

_Sodapop remained frozen for a brief moment before he snapped into attention._

" _Pony, go get Darry,_ _"_ _he ordered, shooing Ponyboy down the hall, before he rushed to Steve_ _'_ _s aid._

_Ponyboy obeyed, flipping lights on down the hall as he went. The door to Darry_ _'_ _s room opened just as Pony was reaching for the doorknob._ _"_ _What_ _'_ _s going on? Darry demanded, completely alert, eyes searching Pony_ _'_ _s face for answers._

" _Steve_ _"_ _was the only word Ponyboy got out before Darry was pushing past him toward the sick boy_ _'_ _s room._

_Remembering how nauseated Steve appeared, Ponyboy had the foresight to grab the trash bin from the bathroom on the way back._

" _M_ _'_ _sorry,_ _"_ _he heard Steve mumbling when he returned to the doorway._

_Soda shushed him, muttering_ _"_ _it_ _'_ _s okay_ _"_ _and_ _"_ _just relax, man._ _"_ _He_ _'_ _d helped Steve into a complete sitting position and was holding a hand against his chest to keep him from pitching forward._

_Darry was already pulling away Steve_ _'_ _s soiled sheets. He balled them up and tucked them under his arm._

" _Soda, here,_ _"_ _Ponyboy said, offering the bin to his brother, as Steve continued to swallow in anticipation of throwing up again._

_Soda took it gratefully. He set the bin in Steve_ _'_ _s lap and helped him lean over it. As Steve started to heave, Darry hooked his free arm around Pony and ushered him out of the room._

" _Let_ _'_ _s give him some space,_ _"_ _he said softly._ _"_ _Soda_ _'_ _s got it covered._ _"_

_Darry even pulled the door shut most of the way to give Steve the illusion of privacy. But they were waiting right outside the door the entire time. Darry only left post to put Steve_ _'_ _s sheets in the wash. He grabbed fresh sheets on the way back, as well as some other necessities like the thermometer and meds._

_When he returned, the two of them remained outside the door, trying to tune out Steve_ _'_ _s sounds of distress while also listening intently for any indication that they might be needed._

" _You okay, Pone?_ _"_ _Darry asked, as Pony paced back and forth in the hall, biting down on the nail of his thumb._

_Ponyboy nodded curtly, coming to a halt in front of Darry._

_Darry was skeptical._ _"_ _You sure?_ _"_

_Ponyboy sighed, remembering how gray Steve had been._ _"_ _He just didn_ _'_ _t look too good._ _"_

" _I know,_ _"_ _Darry agreed heavily._ _"_ _The kid can_ _'_ _t seem to catch a break, can he?_ _"_

_Pony shook his head, wordlessly._

_Darry smiled sadly at him._ _"_ _You know, Pony, I_ _'_ _ve been real proud of you these past couple of months. I know you and Steve haven_ _'_ _t always gotten along._ _"_ _He cleared his throat gruffly._ _"_ _It means a lot that you_ _'_ _ve been so accepting._ _"_

_Ponyboy didn_ _'_ _t get a chance to respond because Soda called them back into the room._

_Steve seemed to be through throwing up because Soda had set the bin down on the floor. Now Steve_ _'_ _s face was pressed into friend_ _'_ _s chest, Soda_ _'_ _s arms wrapped around his form._ _"_ _He_ _'_ _s burning up,_ _"_ _he told Darry with a shaky voice._ _"_ _And he says his back still hurts._ _"_

_Soda stood up to let Darry examine Steve for himself and joined Ponyboy at the doorway. Ponyboy relaxed a little when he saw that Steve had gotten some of his color back._

" _Why don't you go back to bed, Pony?_ _"_ _Soda suggested softly, watching as Darry spoke to Steve in low tones._ _"_ _Me an_ _'_ _Darry will get him sorted out._ _"_

" _You don't need me?_ _"_ _Pony asked, secretly grateful. A foul-smelling stench had filled the room, and Pony wasn't too keen on hanging around._

" _Naw, kiddo. You_ _'_ _ve done enough already._ _"_ _Soda gave him a hesitant smile._ _"'_ _Sides, it_ _'_ _s a little crowded in here._ _"_

_He had a point._

_So Ponyboy returned to his bed. But he didn_ _'_ _t fall back asleep until Soda had rejoined him, almost an entire hour later._

Ponyboy flopped onto the couch with a sigh. "He was doin' better this morning, though," he assured Two-Bit. The two of them were on Steve-duty while Soda and Darry were at work. "Soda even got him to eat some toast."

"Good," Two-Bit said, folding his arms across his chest. "It's too bad we're stuck inside again today. I know you're itchin' to get out."

Ponyboy sighed. "It's okay. As long as I'm not stuck playing  _War_  with—"

"Oh, please, Pony," Two-Bit interrupted with a mock scoff. "I've moved on from card games."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Two-Bit grinned and pulled the board game  _Sorry!_  out from underneath the coffee table.

Ponyboy couldn't help the eye roll.

xxx

Steve emerged from the bedroom a couple of hours later. When he appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, Ponyboy was horrified that he looked worse than he had last night. His pallor was back to resembling that of a zombie.

"Hey guys," he greeted hoarsely.

"Steve-o!" Two-Bit acknowledged, pushing the  _Sorry!_ board aside so he could focus on his friend. "How you feelin'?"

"Like I've been hit by a truck," Steve answered with a grimace, sinking into an open kitchen chair.

Ponyboy felt a pang of worry in his gut. "Your back still hurt?"

Steve nodded miserably. "Everything hurts," he whispered shakily. "I feel awful." He rested his elbows on the table and let his head fall into his hands.

Ponyboy glanced at Two-Bit, his worry creeping up a few notches at Steve's weak and honest admission.

But Two-Bit was the picture of calm. He pushed himself out of his chair so he could feel Steve's forehead, cursing under his breath at how warm he was. "Ponyboy, go grab the thermometer, will you?"

"Yeah, sure," he answered hurriedly and scurried out of the room.

"You're a little shaky, man," Two-Bit was saying when Ponyboy returned. "You need something to eat?"

Steve swallowed hard at the thought. "I don't think…" he paused to take a breath. "I don't think it would stay down."

Ponyboy saw Two-Bit lick his lips, something he always did when he was nervous. He took the thermometer from Pony and held it out to Steve. "Okay, man. That's okay," he said gently. "Let's see how hot you're runnin'."

Steve's fever had climbed to 103.2 degrees.

"You can't do anything half-way, can you?" Two-Bit commented, but his voice was void of all humor. He knew if Steve's fever got any higher it would be in the dangerous range.

"Sorry," Steve breathed.

"Think you can manage some more Tylenol?" Two-Bit asked.

"I can… try," Steve answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ponyboy frowned, noticing how it seemed to be taking a lot of effort for Steve to get his words out. That sent off more warning bells in his head. "How's your breathing, Steve?" he asked, speaking up.

Steve met his gaze with glossy eyes. "Huh?"

"You sound like you're having trouble breathing," Ponyboy stated. "Are you?"

Steve hesitated then swallowed before he answered. "Yeah," he answered, eyes downcast at the table as if he was embarrassed. "I feel like… I can't g-get… enough air in."

Ponyboy felt his hands go numb. He was really starting to worry now.

"What else?" he asked.

When Steve hesitated again, Two-Bit became a little more firm.

"What else, Steve?" he demanded, bending forward so his hands were on his knees and he was eye-level with the reluctant patient in front of him. "This is not the time to be a hero."

Steve let out a shuddering breath. "I'm dizzy," he said meekly. "Really dizzy."

Two-Bit met Ponyboy's eyes and collectively, without having to say a word, the pair decided that Steve needed to go to the emergency room.

Stat.

It looked as though Ponyboy would be getting out of the house after all.


	7. Chapter 7

The one thing Darry really didn't like about his roofing job was how complicated it was for his brothers to get in touch with him if they needed something. He always parked his truck at headquarters, then he and four or five other guys would take a company truck to wherever they were assigned to work that day. The only consistent phone number Darry was able to give to Pony and Soda was the one located at headquarters. And Darry was never there.

Darry thanked the heavens that when it came down to it, his boss cared more about his employees' well-being than about his business.

"Hey, Curtis, isn't that Boss's car?" Chris Dunlap asked, as he pounded a nail into the rafter.

Darry finished hammering a shingle into place before looking up, following his co-worker's gaze to the driveway below. Sure enough, his boss's Coupe de Ville was parked in the driveway of the house they'd been working on the past couple of days.

"Looks like," Darry answered swiftly, getting back to work. If his boss was here, that probably meant it was a surprise evaluation day, and Darry was counting on a raise.

Five shingles later, Darry heard a whistle and then Boss calling his name. "Curtis, come down here a minute, kid!"

Darry rolled his eyes at being called 'kid.' Most of the guys he worked with were in their late twenties and early thirties. There were even some guys in their forties. And since Darry had only recently turned 21, he was definitely the kid of the bunch.

"I'll be right down!" he hollered back. He raised his eyebrows at Chris. When Boss came to observe, he didn't usually single anyone out. "What do you think he wants?" The idea that something was wrong hadn't even crossed Darry's mind.

"How should I know?" Chris answered with a shrug. "Get your ass down there, kid. He probably wants to give you a gold star for working overtime."

Darry pegged his sweat towel at Chris in jest before carefully side-stepping his way to the ladder. He slipped down the ladder with caution, aware that nobody was holding it steady at the bottom.

His boss, Mr. Wyatt, was leaning on the hood of the car, puffing a cigarette. He stomped it out as Darry approached, folding his arms across his chest.

Darry stood up tall, reminding himself to look Mr. Wyatt in the eye, no matter how intimidated he was by the man.

"Darrel, good to see you working hard up there, son," Mr. Wyatt said, holding his arm out to shake Darry's hand in greeting.

"Thank you, sir."

Mr. Wyatt cleared his throat gruffly to get to the point of calling Darry down off the roof. "Listen, Curtis, I'm afraid I'm here to deliver some bad news. Your kid brother called the office earlier. Asked me to tell you that he and another fellow had to take a boy named Sam to the emergency room."

"Sam?" Darry repeated softly, his brow furrowing at the name he didn't recognize. "D-Do you mean Steve?"

"Ah, yes," Mr. Wyatt corrected himself. "Steve. That was his name."

Darry's gut turned to a hunk of ice at the confirmation. "Did my brother say what happened?"

Mr. Wyatt shook his head. "He just said the boy was very ill."

Darry swallowed and lifted his hands to his head to run his fingers through his hair. The June heat coupled with this bombshell of news was making him dizzy. He felt like he had water in his ears.

Mr. Wyatt was still talking, but Darry couldn't hear him over the thoughts screaming in his head. Steve was sick. Sick enough to warrant a visit to the hospital. Did Soda know? How serious was it?

"…drive you back, Curtis." Mr. Wyatt's voice found its way back into Darry's conscious. "Your brother sounded very upset on the phone. You should go."

Darry blinked. "You can take me back?" he asked, making sure he'd heard right.

"'Course, kid. Just as soon as you gather up your equipment and put in the truck."

"Yessir," Darry said. "Thank you, sir."

* * *

Upon returning to headquarters, Darry asked Mr. Wyatt if he could use the phone to call Sodapop. Of course, Mr. Wyatt said he could.

Sodapop picked up on the first ring. Darry had a feeling he'd been waiting by the phone.

" _Hello, this is the Osage County DX. How may I help you?_ _"_  Soda quickly rambled off the gas station's standard greeting.

"Soda, it's me."

_"_ _Darry, thank God._ _"_

"Did Ponyboy get ahold of you?"

_"_ _Yeah. Y-You comin_ _'_ _to get me?_ _"_

"Yeah, Soda, of course," Darry assured. "You okay?"

 _"_ _Define_ _'_ _okay_ _'_ _,_ _"_ Soda replied softly and Darry could picture him carding a nervous hand through his tufts of hair.

"Soda, what all did Ponyboy tell you?" Darry still felt in the dark about everything that was going on, and he was fishing for answers.

 _"_ _He told me everything he knew, Dar,_ _"_ Soda's answered, his voice wavering slightly. _"_ _Can you just come get me? I_ _'_ _ll fill you in when you get here._ _"_

"I'll be there in five."

* * *

Soda was waiting on the bench outside of the entrance to the gas station when Darry pulled up. He jumped up immediately and had already started getting in the truck before Darry came to a complete stop.

Darry nodded a greeting as Soda closed the door. "Your boss okay with you leaving?" he asked, pushing the gas and speeding off in the direction of the hospital. Darry knew they had to be short-staffed if both Soda and Steve weren't there.

"Yeah, he called in a replacement."

Satisfied, Darry nodded. He glanced at Soda out of the corner of his eye, not surprised to see his brother fidgeting with his hands - something he always did when he was nervous.

"Soda, tell me what you know," Darry said, directing his attention back on the road. "All I know is that Steve is sick - I don't know the details."

Soda let out a wavering breath. "Pony said they took him to the emergency room because his fever spiked and he was having trouble breathing. Apparently he was really dizzy too. Pony said he threw up again on their way to the hospital."

"Is that all he told you?"

"No," Soda whispered, looking down at his hands.

"What else?"

Soda drew in a deep breath. It was obvious that what he was about to say was going to be difficult. "He said that somewhere along the way, Steve became disoriented. Agitated even. Like he didn't know what was going on. They had to sedate him, Dar."

Darry could detect the anguish in his brother's voice. He swallowed hard. "Soda, that could've just been the fever," he said, doing his best to offer reassurance. "You remember how delirious Ponyboy was when he was running so hot."

"I know." Soda sniffed. "I just wish I had been there. God, Darry, if something happens to him—" He broke off with a choked sob and buried his face in his hands. "I-I don't think I could take it."

Instinctively, Darry reached out to put his hand between Soda's shoulder blades. "I know, Soda," he shushed, feeling his brother's body tremble beneath his hand. "I know. We're almost there, little buddy."

Deep down, Darry was just as panicked and worried as Soda was. But on the surface, he was focused, calm, and determined. They'd already been through so much -  _lost_ so much - and Darry wasn't about to let another person they loved get taken away.

Not on his watch.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything was too familiar.

That's what Sodapop decided as he sat in the waiting area of the emergency room, drumming his fingers on the armrest of the padded wooden chair.

Without counting, Soda already knew how many chairs were in the room. If he wanted, he could describe the cheesy paintings on the wall in full detail without even a glance. He knew what magazines littered the tables, the pattern of the ugly curtains, the exact locations of the stains on the wallpaper… he knew everything about that damn room without even having to open his eyes.

In the past year, Soda realized, he had been in this exact position four times. It was always a waiting game.

It was a waiting game when Mr. Curtis had been revived shortly after the accident that killed his wife on impact. He'd been airlifted to the hospital, only to slip out from underneath their fingertips two hours later.

It was a waiting game after the fire that had Johnny so wrecked he could barely speak without passing out cold.

It was a waiting game the night Johnny and Dallas died, and Ponyboy dropped like lead in the vacant lot.

And it was a waiting game now. With Steve.

None of them were allowed to see him. He was off getting prodded and X-rayed and God-knows-what-else. The only thing keeping Soda sane was his company.

"Curtis, you need to relax, man," Two-Bit said softly, leaning across Ponyboy who was sitting in the chair beside Soda. "I'm gonna chop your fingers off if you don't quit tapping 'em."

"Yeah, Soda, we don't even know what's going on yet," Ponyboy reminded him. He put a gentle hand over Soda's hand to keep him from fidgeting.

"For all we know, this could just be a bad case of the flu," Darry added, slinging an arm around Soda's shoulders. "He's in good hands, okay?"

Soda let out a deep breath and nodded vaguely. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, letting his head drop into the palms of his hands. He allowed the reassurances from his brothers and Two-Bit to calm his nerves, but deep down he still had that feeling in his gut; the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

* * *

It was almost an entire hour later when an emergency physician emerged to speak with the boys. Soda was on his feet in an instant, as were the others.

The boys huddled around the doctor, anxious to hear what he had to say.

Sepsis. That's what medical professionals had deduced Steve's condition to be.

When Dr. James Linney first said the word, Sodapop wasn't sure what it meant. But he saw the way Darry flinched at the diagnosis and he knew 'sepsis' wasn't a walk in the park.

"Are you boys aware of what sepsis is?" Dr. Linney asked, picking up on the blank expressions on their faces.

Everyone but Darry shook their heads.

"It's a blood infection," Darry answered meekly.

"That is correct," Dr. Linney said, his voice strictly business. "Sepsis is a potential life-threatening complication of an infection. It occurs when chemicals released into the bloodstream to fight the infection trigger inflammatory responses throughout the body."

"Life-threatening?" Soda squeaked.

Dr. Linney nodded. "It is usually brought on through the presence of a wound."

Soda's knees felt weak.  _The street fight._

"Do you boys know how long Steve has had that cut on his lower right abdomen?"

Darry pinched the bridge of his nose before answering. "Four days. He broke up a fight… the punk pulled a blade…"

Dr. Linney nodded and scribbled something down on his clipboard.

"Doc, is he going to be okay?" Two-Bit asked, getting right to the important question, the question buzzing around in all of their brains.

The middle-aged doctor stiffened. "I am optimistic for Steve's recovery, yes," he said. "My team has managed to bring Steve's temperature down significantly and we've already started him on some antibiotics to fight the infection.

"I hear a 'but' coming…" Darry said reluctantly.

Dr. Linney drew in a deep breath. " _But,_ " he said, making good on Darry's prediction, "Steve is far from out of the woods yet. Right now, Steve's condition is categorized as 'mild sepsis,' because his blood pressure levels are staying normal. However, his confusion and back pain are cause for concern. Our goal right now is to monitor Steve's BP levels, because if his blood pressure starts to drop, we may have a more serious issue on our hands."

"Meaning what?" Soda asked hoarsely.

"Meaning the infection could progress into septic shock, and we could be dealing with organ failure."

Soda swallowed. Dr. Linney was apparently not one to sugar coat.

"Are we able to see him?" Darry asked, placing a hand of comfort on Soda's back.

"I'm afraid not," the doctor said regretfully. "We are preparing to move Steve down to the ICU where we will admit him. It is up to the medical professionals on that floor to decide whether he is fit for visitors."

Soda closed eyes. He just wanted to hold his best friend's hand, let him know it was okay - even though it wasn't. Soda suddenly felt like he was underwater; he was dizzy and very unsteady on his feet.

He felt a tug on his arm. "Let's go sit down, Soda," Ponyboy's voice said. "Darry and Two-Bit can finish up with the doctor." He must've noticed Soda looked like he was about to fall over.

Soda nodded vaguely and allowed Ponyboy to pull him back over to the seats.

He collapsed heavily into his chair, bringing his hands up to his head to run his fingers through his hair.

"He's gonna be okay, Soda," Ponyboy said softly, sinking into the seat next to him. "You heard the doc. He's optimistic about his recovery."

Soda sighed. "He also said he wasn't out of the woods yet," he reminded his brother.

"He'll be okay," Ponyboy said again, confidently. He gave Soda's hand a tight squeeze. "You'll see."

Gosh, Soda wanted to believe his brother. He really did. But it was hard, after everything that had happened. It always seemed like the Universe was out to get them. Why would this time be any different?

He just hoped that for once, for  _once_ , luck was on their side.

Heaven knows they deserved it.


	9. Chapter 9

It felt like ages before the boys were allowed in to see Steve. It took a while transferring him down to the ICU and then, once he was settled, he had a parade of nurses bustling in and out of his room.

Ponyboy spent his time watching the little TVs that were mounted on the walls of the waiting area of the ICU. There was a documentary about wolves on, and even though the volume was muted, Ponyboy was fascinated by the footage flashing across the screen.

The documentary followed a pack of wolves that were living in the mountains. Not only were the creatures majestic and breathtaking, but the environment surrounding them was beautiful as well.

The documentary showed how smart wolves were - how they worked as a pack to trap prey, how they used instincts to make a kill. But Ponyboy enjoyed it best when the documentary showed the wolves howling at the moon and sky. It made him wish he had his sketchpad with him.

Ponyboy focused on that documentary until a nurse emerged to speak to the boys. By that time, it was nearing six o'clock.

"He's sleeping now, but you can go in and be with him if you'd like."

* * *

Steve's room was eerily quiet aside from the intermittent beeping sounds from all the machines he was hooked up to. He had a private room, as most patients with sepsis did.

He looked very still, eyes closed, pallor pale, chest rising and falling primarily because of the ventilator he was hooked up to.

Ponyboy and Two-Bit remained hovering by the door while Darry and Soda stepped further into the room, each taking a seat in the chairs on either side of Steve's bed. Soda immediately reached for Steve's hand while Darry reached up to push his hair out of his eyes. Steve hadn't had the strength to grease his hair back that morning, so it hung in a wispy mess in front of his face.

He remained still.

The boys were quiet for a long while before Two-Bit broke the silence.

"I can't believe we're back here," he said solemnly, and it made Pony's gut twist. He wasn't used to hearing Two-Bit sound so defeated.

"He doesn't even look real," Darry said softly, carding a nervous hand through his hair. "He's so white."

"He looks like one of those porcelain dolls," Soda agreed, voice shaking slightly, silent tears slipping from his eyes. He was stroking the back of Steve's hand with his thumb.

Even from a slight distance, Ponyboy could could see Steve well enough that a flood of memories came washing over him. Bad memories. Memories of funerals and best buddies lying in coffins. Because Steve was looking awfully similar to a corpse, and suddenly, Ponyboy wasn't sure he could cope.

He leaned heavily against the doorframe, knees weak. He was starting to feel a little claustrophobic - the room was small - and in all honesty, he just wanted to go home. Or at the very least, step outside for a smoke. Something to calm his nerves.

Two-Bit seemed to read his mind. "Hey, it's a little crowded with all of us in here," he said, slipping a comforting arm behind Ponyboy's back. "How 'bout me and Pony head down to the cafeteria and bring y'all up some dinner?"

Darry nodded. "Good idea. None of us have eaten since this morning." Ponyboy felt Darry's eyes on him. "Get some fresh air, Pony. You're looking a little white yourself."

Ponyboy swallowed hard and nodded.

He allowed Two-Bit to usher him out of the room.

* * *

"So this is your idea of 'fresh air,' huh?" Two-Bit kidded, as Ponyboy stomped out his first cigarette and immediately replaced it with a second one. Two-Bit was letting a cigarette of his own dangle limply between his fingers.

"Shut up, Mathews," Ponyboy mumbled. He took a long drag on his fresh cigarette and blew it out slowly.

They were sitting on a bench outside, next to the hospital's entrance. Ponyboy was leaned back, eyes closed, letting the evening sun beat down on his features. It almost felt good.

Two-Bit didn't say anything else. He just slung an arm around Pony's shoulders and they sat in numb silence until they were ready to head back inside.

* * *

"Eat, Pony."

Ponyboy lifted his head. He'd just been stirring his soup, very rarely taking a bite of it. Two-Bit was staring at him from across the table of the cafeteria.

"You need to eat, man. It won't do Steve any good if we don't keep our own strength up."

Ponyboy reluctantly brought a spoonful to his mouth and swallowed it. He knew Two-Bit had a point. He wasn't sure if it was because he didn't have much of an appetite or if it was because hospital food was notorious for being downright awful, but he was pretty sure this was the worst broccoli cheddar soup he'd ever eaten in his life.

Two-Bit had miraculously finished his soup already and now he was hard-set on Ponyboy finishing his.

"Do you think Steve will be okay, Two-Bit?" Ponyboy asked softly between bites.

Two-Bit sighed. "To tell you the truth, kid, I don't think Steve's been okay for a while now. Hell, I don't think any of us have."

"That's not really what I was asking…"

"I know, Pone. You were asking if I think he'll live. If he'll beat this thing." Two-Bit let out a deep breath. "I think most of that's gonna be up to him."

* * *

When Ponyboy and Two-Bit returned to ICU with the soup for Darry and Soda, Steve was awake. Soda was still holding his hand, and Darry was standing at the foot of the bed while a nurse hovered over the opposite side of Steve.

"What's goin' on?" Two-Bit asked softly, and Darry hurried over to meet them at the door.

"He woke up and was in a lot of pain," Darry said lowly. "His back again. The nurse upped his morphine dosage and she's trying to make him more comfortable."

Ponyboy could hear Steve moaning and grunting as the nurse delicately shifted his position.

"Is he coherent?" Two-Bit asked.

"For the most part, yeah. He was able to tell us what day it is and what hospital he's at. Which I understand is a step up from earlier today?"

Two-Bit nodded, and Ponyboy shuddered at the memory from earlier that day, when Steve was so confused and  _scared_. Afraid to let any of the medical professionals touch him, unable to recognize Pony and Two-Bit… That's when he'd been sedated and taken away from them. That's when Ponyboy called Darry and Soda.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Is that better, man?" Soda asked his friend, once the nurse had stopped shifting Steve around.

"Mmm," Steve moaned in affirmation. It was hard for him to speak around the ventilator.

"Good to hear it, hon," the nurse said, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Steve?"

Ponyboy couldn't hear Steve's answer, but Sodapop seemed to understand what he was saying. "Not right now, thank you," he told the nurse.

"All right, well you boys don't hesitate to call me if you need anything." She gave Steve's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Looks like you have some more visitors, darlin'. Come on over, boys." She waved Two-Bit and Ponyboy over and switched places with them. Then she crossed the room to exchange words with Darry.

Steve's mouth twitched, but didn't quite make it to a smile, when they got into his eye-line. Soda lifted Steve's ventilator mask so he could speak. "Hey, guys," he said hoarsely.

"Hey, man," Two-Bit said gently.

"Hi, Steve," Pony said shyly. "How're you doin'?"

"I'm… okay," Steve answered, voice barely above a whisper, eyes fluttering as if they were too heavy to stay open.

"I think the pain woke him up," Soda said, tightly squeezing his buddy's hand. "Don't feel like you have to stay awake for us, Steve. If you want to go back to sleep, that's okay."

"Okay," Steve breathed, letting his eyes close. "M'sorry."

"Don't be sorry, man," Two-Bit said. He ran his hand through Steve's mop of hair. "You need your rest."

That was all the permission Steve needed to drift back off to sleep.

* * *

Darry took Ponyboy home shortly after Steve fell back asleep. Two-Bit was headed home too, but Soda was going to stay the night at the hospital.

"I think Soda's going to take the rest of the week off work," Darry told Ponyboy on the way home. "I'm going to take tomorrow off too - I want to go speak with Steve's father."

Ponyboy's eyes widened. "You're going to talk to Steve's dad?" he asked.

"Yeah, Pone. He needs to know what's going on."

"He doesn't  _deserve_ to know," Ponyboy grumped, folding his arms across his chest.

"Look, Steve's still a minor, Pony. And that means Mr. Randle is still technically in charge of him financially. Now, if he's blown his savings on booze, which I suspect he has, then we'll figure something else out. But right now we have to see where he stands in all this. Understood?"

Ponyboy hadn't considered the topic of medical bills. "Yeah, I understand," he sighed. "Just be careful, Darry."

"I will be, kid."

* * *

Darry and Ponyboy retired to bed shortly after they arrived home.

It had been a long day and frankly, they were exhausted.

Darry opted to sleep in bed with Ponyboy. He was probably afraid the kid would have nightmares after such a stressful day.

Ponyboy thought he might too, especially since he fell asleep thinking about his mom and dad, and Johnny and Dallas, and Steve and all the bad luck that had come their way.

But he didn't have any nightmares. In fact, he slept soundly the entire night.

He still dreamed, but this time he didn't dream about the church or the fire or buddies crumpling under streetlights.

This time, Ponyboy dreamed about wolves.


	10. Chapter 10

This was what Darry knew about the Randle household:

Joanne Randle, Steve's mother, was a flight risk. She was always threatening to leave Steve's father, Greg, because he was in between jobs more often than not and he was overly fond of the drink. Sometimes she followed through and actually left. For weeks at a time.

But she always came back.

Soda told Darry that she would always come back for Steve. She could never bear the thought of her son living alone with, as she put it, "that monster of a man."

Greg Randle  _was_ just that. He was terrible father and example to Steve. A real mean sonovagun. Abusive with his words and his neglect. Nobody tore Steve up like his old man.

Darry didn't know much about the day Steve's father kicked him out. He knew his mother had been on one of her "breaks" and Steve hadn't heard from her since the day she left. He knew Steve and his father had been butting heads for a while, but he never knew his dad would actually ask him to leave. If Darry was willing to bet, it was a mixture of too much whiskey, too much emotion, and Steve finally having enough. When Mr. Randle asked him to get out, Steve decided to listen, whether the man meant it or not.

And now, Darry was parked outside what he believed to be the Randles' house, not exactly looking forward to telling his father that his son was severely ill… and that he was financially responsible.

The trouble was, the house he was sitting in front of didn't  _look_  like the Randles' house. Normally, the house was trashed. Beer bottles littering the overgrown lawn, shutters falling off their hinges, a broken down car in the driveway…

But not today. Today, the lawn was mowed and the house was presentable. The shutters had been realigned and Darry was pretty sure the house had a fresh coat of paint. There were even flowers in the little patch of dirt leading up to the doorway.  _Flowers_.

But this was the Randles' house. Darry had double-checked the address before he came.

A sinking feeling came over Darry. It occurred to him that Mr. Randle could have moved out. Perhaps he didn't even live there anymore. The car that was parked in the driveway sure looked nicer than the piece of junk that usually sat in the drive.

What if he wasn't there? How in the world would Darry get in touch with him?

Darry let out a sigh and kicked the truck door open. If there were new owners in this house, maybe they would know how to get in touch with Mr. Randle.

He walked up the drive and rapped on the door with his knuckles.

A man's voice - one Darry didn't recognize - called, "I'll get it." And now Darry was nearly positive Mr. Randle had moved out.

The front door swung open to reveal a clean-shaven version of a guy who looked a whole lot like Mr. Randle. "Hi, can I help you?" the man asked kindly.

Darry scratched the back of his head. "Uh, I'm looking for Greg Randle," he said. "Is he here?"

"No, I'm afraid not," the man answered. He extended his arm to shake hands with Darry. "Gerry Randle," he introduced himself. "I'm Greg's brother."

Darry shook his hand back firmly. "I'm Darry Curtis," he said. "I'm a friend of Steve's."

"A friend of Steve's, huh?" Gerry said warmly. "Pleasure to meet you, son."

"You too, sir," Darry said. He was getting a good vibe from this man. A  _sophisticated_ vibe. "If you don't mind me asking, where is Greg?"

Gerry sighed. "I think you'd better come in and sit down," he said, stepping to the side so Darry could get in the door. "It's kind of a long story."

* * *

Gerry led Darry into the TV room and asked him to have a seat. Darry obliged and eased into a spot on the couch.

"Hey, Jo," the man called into the kitchen. "Could you put a pot of coffee on? We have some company."

"Sure, Ger," Mrs. Randle replied. "I'll be out in a sec."

Darry felt his hands ball into fists as he realized Steve's mother was here. "How long has she been home?" he asked through gritted teeth, nodding toward the kitchen.

Gerry looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"She left," Darry said, trying hard to keep his voice steady, but it was hard when he was seething. "Over two months ago. She left Steve here, with your  _brother_ , and he kicked him out. Steve hasn't heard from her since."

Gerry was flabbergasted. "What?"

"You didn't know all this?" Darry asked, softening his tone. The man looked genuinely surprised.

"No, I didn't," Gerry answered. "Jo told me Steve was living with some friends, sure, but she didn't tell me it was because Greg kicked him out. And she certainly didn't mention she'd left."

"Unbelievable," Darry hissed, carding an angry hand through his hair. "What  _did_  she tell you?"

Gerry hesitated. "Listen kid, I think maybe it would be best if we talk outside."

"Yeah," Darry agreed, flashing an angry look in the direction of the kitchen. "I think you're right."

The pair stood up just as Mrs. Randle came bustling out of kitchen. "Coffee's heating up. So, who's our guest?" she asked brightly, freezing in her tracks when she laid eyes on Darry. Her smiled disappeared in an instant. "Oh, hi, Darrel," she said abashedly.

"Hi," Darry returned coldly, not even glancing in her direction.

"Jo, Darry and I are going to step out outside and have a conversation," Gerry said, his voice taking on a cold tone just like Darry's. "You can forget about the coffee."

Mrs. Randle blinked. "But—"

Gerry held up a hand. "You and I will talk later," he said firmly. "You have a world of explaining to do."

Mrs. Randle wrung her hands and silently nodded, slowly backing up until she'd disappeared back into the kitchen. Horror was plastered all over her face.

"C'mon, son," Gerry said, leading Darry out the door. "Let's talk."

* * *

"I recently got back from South Asia," Gerry told Darry over a drink. They'd walked the few blocks to the pub and were chatting over some beers. Darry wanted to know more about the man and the situation before he confided in him about Steve's illness.

"I was there for a little over ten years," Gerry continued. "I'm a doctor and I was fresh out of medical school when I left. I was told doctors were in high demand over there. And I was young and I wanted to see the world so I figured it was right up my alley."

Gerry was becoming increasingly impressive to Darry.

"So what parts did you practice in?" he asked.

"The majority of the time I was in India. I loved the country and the people. I also spent some time in Bangladesh and Nepal. It was a great experience, but ten years is enough. I was ready to come home."

"I'll bet," Darry said. "I hear it's a culture shock over there."

"Oh, absolutely. It was tough too, because I had to learn Hindi, or at least enough that I could direct the nurses to help the patients the way they needed." Gerry shook his head suddenly. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling."

"It's okay," Darry assured. "So how'd you wind up in Tulsa?"

"Well, I got back to the States about three weeks ago and I immediately phoned Greg. We hadn't been able to keep in touch over the years and over the distance. I wanted to know what my big brother was up to. He's my only family." Gerry let out a sigh. "Joanne answered and told me Greg was really struggling with alcoholism and that it had gotten out of hand. Apparently he'd taken a swing at her - or at least, that's what she claimed. She sounded upset and extremely scared. I flew down the next day.

"When I got here, she explained to me that Steve was living with some friends. That he'd left on his own. She told me she was relieved because she didn't want him here while his father was so belligerent."

Darry shook his head. "That's a load of bullshit."

"So I've gathered," Gerry said with a sigh. "Anyway, I told Joanne I'd pay for Greg's rehab. I'd made quite a living for myself after all those years in Asia and I could afford it. I knew that they couldn't."

"So that's where Greg is?" Darry asked. "In rehab?"

Gerry nodded. "He's at a facility in Phoenix. The best around."

"Good," Darry nodded. "That's where he needs to be." He took another swig of his beer as another question occurred to him. "Why didn't you reach out to Steve?" he asked, trying hard not to sound too accusatory.

"It's been a while since I've seen the kid. He was seven when I left the States." Gerry shrugged. "Besides, Joanne seemed content that he was living with friends. I assumed he was happy. I figured we could have a family reunion of sorts once Greg was well. Make a surprise out of it even."

Darry swallowed. He understood where Gerry was coming from and he did not blame the man. But he did need to set the record straight. "You're wrong," he said softly, no heat behind his words. "Steve's not happy. He's had a really tough time lately."

Gerry's eyebrows knotted in concern for his nephew. "What's been going on?"

"Two of our closest buddies died a few months back. And soon after that, Steve's girlfriend cheated on him." Darry let out a deep breath. "Combine all that with his mom taking off and his dad kicking him out…" Darry trailed off, voice thick with emotion. "And now… now he's… he…" Darry shook his head as a couple of tears slipped down his cheeks. He wasn't sure he could deliver this bombshell of news to the unsuspecting man beside him.

"What?" Gerry prompted, concern and worry etched in his features. He put a gentle hand on Darry's back, leaning forward to meet his eyes.

Darry let out a shuddering breath and silently told himself to pull it together. "He's really sick," he answered. "He - uh - he has sepsis, Gerry."

Gerry closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jesus Christ," he muttered.

Being a doctor, Darry was sure Gerry knew how serious Steve's diagnosis was.

"He's being treated at Hillcrest," Darry told him. "The doctor said that right now, his case is categorized as 'mild' sepsis, but Steve is really ill and we've been told to prepare for a turn for the worse." Darry thought back to the phone conversation he'd had with Sodapop that morning. "My brother stayed with him last night and he said Steve had a rough time. He wasn't responding well to the antibiotics. They made him extremely nauseated."

Gerry paled. "That poor boy."

"Yeah," Darry agreed. "I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you."

Gerry shook his head. "I'm glad you did. What can I do to help?"

Darry scratched his head nervously. "Well, uh, I came over today to discuss Greg's financial responsibility for his son…"

"Don't even worry about that," Gerry said without missing a beat. "I'll cover any bills."

And just like that, a weight was lifted from Darry's shoulders.

* * *

Since Darry was eager to get back to the hospital, the rest of his time with Gerry was brief. It was strictly business.

On the walk back to the Randles' house to get his truck, Darry asked Gerry to pass the news along to Steve's mother. But he made it very clear that he did not want either one of them coming to see Steve until Steve said it was okay.

Darry had a feeling Steve would be welcoming of Gerry, but his mother was a whole other story.

Gerry agreed to the conditions. He also told Darry he'd speak with Joanne and ask her why she acted the way that she had.

Darry thanked him, assured him that he'd be in touch, and then he left.

Back to the hospital, a place that was begrudgingly starting to feel like a second home.


	11. Chapter 11

"You're still here."

Soda startled into reality at the sound of Steve's voice. He'd been leafing through a  _Life_  magazine, reading jokes and articles and focusing on anything other than his sick best friend in the bed next to him. Steve had been asleep for nearly three hours now, exhausted from a rough night of vertigo, nausea, and pain.

"'Course I'm still here, man," Soda said, tossing the magazine aside. It landed with a heavy flop on the table next to Steve's bed. "How're you doing?"

"M'hot…" Steve offered as a reply, weakly trying to shove the blanket off his body with little success.

Soda leaned forward to help him, pulling the covers down to his ankles, trying to ignore how bony and knobby Steve's knees were. "Better?"

Steve nodded.

Soda stood up to go open the blinds to the window. When he returned to his chair, he noticed that Steve's respirator had been pushed aside.

"You took your mask off," he commented. "Your breathing okay?"

Another nod.

"How's your back?"

Steve closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath before answering. "Hurts," he admitted. He opened his eyes and gave Soda a weak smile. "But I'm starting to get used to it."

"I'll get a nurse in here," Soda said, reaching to press the call button.

"No," Steve said quickly. "Please. Just…" he broke off, voice thick with emotion,

"What, man?" Soda asked, grabbing for his friend's hand.

"Just give me a minute…"

Soda swallowed hard. Steve didn't need to explain. He understood. Steve was a very private person, and Soda knew how uncomfortable it made him to have to rely on nurses and doctors,  _strangers_ , to take care of him.

Last night had been an invasion of Steve's privacy, in every sense of the idea. Steve had been very ill - vomiting, short of breath, rapid pulse, shivery, dizzy, back pain, the works. A nurse was in the room with them nearly every second of the night, desperately trying to make Steve more comfortable.

When Steve was too weak and incoherent to use the bathroom on his own, it was the nurse who helped him relieve himself in the bedpan. When Steve gagged and shook over the emesis basin, it was the nurse who cleaned it out and administered the anti-nausea meds. When Steve writhed in pain from his back, it was the nurse who applied warm compresses and adjusted his pillow.

And Soda was grateful, because all he had to do was offer his hand for Steve to hold.

Much later, when things had calmed down and Steve was resting comfortably, it was explained to them that Steve's discomfort was just his body reacting to the antibiotics - that everyone responded differently. As long as Steve's blood pressure levels remained consistent, then the antibiotics were doing their job. Soda just wished it didn't come with such a price.

Soda sighed and stroked his friend's hand with his thumb. "You remember last night?" he asked softly.

Steve nodded. "I remember enough," he said hoarsely. "I wish I didn't." And Soda knew he was thinking about bedpans, and emesis basins, and all the other humiliating things that came as a package deal with last night.

Soda cleared his throat. "You hung tough, man," he said, giving Steve's hand a tight squeeze. "You were great."

"I don't feel tough," Steve said, his voice breaking, eyes overflowing. "Just look at me, Soda."

"I am looking at you," Soda said gently. "And all I see is someone who's going to beat this thing."

Steve just sighed and turned his head to look out the window. Soda tried to ignore the tears that slipped down his best friend's cheeks.

"The rest of the guys should be coming by soon," Soda announced as a way to lighten the mood. "Two-Bit said he'd bring you some hair grease."

"Okay."

They fell silent after that. Soda released Steve's hand to run his fingers through his hair, and he silently cursed the tears that were beginning to prick his eyes. His best friend was broken - and Soda wasn't so sure he could be fixed.

He wasn't so sure Steve wanted to be.

And that's what scared him the most.

* * *

"Have you gotten any sleep at all?" Darry asked. "You look dead on your feet."

"I'm fine, Darry," Soda answered with a sigh. He set his tray down and sat heavily into the cafeteria chair.

"That's a no, then," Darry said knowingly, taking a seat across from him.

They'd gone down to the cafeteria to get some brunch. Soda wasn't hungry, but Darry had insisted. He claimed he needed to talk with Soda alone anyway. Soda assumed it was regarding Darry's visit with Steve's father - something Steve hadn't known about.

So they'd left Steve under the watchful eyes of Ponyboy and Two-Bit.

Soda took a weary bite of his potatoes. "So, how'd it go?"

Darry sighed. "Well, for starters, the missus is back."

Soda raised his eyebrows. "Really? For how long?"

"Hard to say. At least three weeks."

" _Three_ weeks? She's been back for  _three weeks_?"

Darry nodded. "At least."

"Gee, would've been nice for her to let Steve know," Soda scoffed, pushing his tray away. He had even less of an appetite now. "What'd his old man say?"

Darry pushed the tray back. "Keep eating and I'll keep talking," he compromised.

Soda reluctantly took another bite of potatoes.

Satisfied, Darry told Soda everything about his visit to the Randles' house. How Steve's uncle had shown up three weeks ago, how he'd sent his old man to rehab, how he'd cleaned the place up… Everything. "When I told him about Steve, he said he'd cover all of his medical bills."

Soda couldn't believe what he was hearing. For once, it sounded like things were finally going their way. "Steve's going to want to see his Uncle Gerry," he said, unable to hide the smile that crept onto his face.

"He's told you about him?" Darry asked.

Soda nodded. "He used to talk about him all the time when we were younger." He chuckled to himself. "I thought he made him up. The guy sounded too good to be true."

Darry laughed. "He  _is_  too good to be true," he said. "I mean, Steve's old man is in  _rehab_ , Soda. I never thought I'd see the day…" He grinned and reached across to ruffle Soda's hair. "Now finish eating. It's about time Steve heard some good news for a change."

"Amen to that."

* * *

When Soda and Darry returned to the ICU, any good spirits they might've had immediately disappeared. Something was wrong. There were several nurses in Steve's room and Ponyboy was anxiously waiting outside of the door.

"What's going on?" Soda demanded, peering into Steve's room to get a better look. Two-Bit was crouched next to what appeared to be an unconscious Steve. Nurses surrounded him as well.

Darry clamped a hand on Soda's shoulder for reassurance.

"He passed out," Ponyboy told them, obviously trying to keep his voice steady. "His blood pressure is dropping. They think he might be progressing into septic shock."

Soda felt his knees buckle beneath him, and suddenly found himself sandwiched between his two brothers in a tight hug.

He buried his face into Darry chest and he could feel Ponyboy's hand running up and down his spine.

Soda's world was crashing down around him, and his brothers were the only ones keeping him standing.


	12. Chapter 12

"What are you drawing?"

The gang had been asked to move into the waiting room while the medical staff tended to Steve. He was undergoing some more tests to try and determine why his blood pressure was dropping so rapidly.

Sodapop was currently leaning against Darry's shoulder, unable to stay awake from his sleepless night, while Darry leafed through a magazine. Two-Bit was awake, people-watching. And Ponyboy was drawing.

Ponyboy looked up from his sketchpad to see the little girl who'd voiced the question standing in front of him. She looked to be about seven years old. She had curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and she had a stuffed bear tucked under her arm.

Ponyboy was surprised. He'd been so consumed in what was going on with Steve that he'd almost forgotten an outside world existed. And this little girl in front of him was a cheerful reminder. She had a big smile on her lips, complete with a missing front tooth.

Ponyboy found it effortless to return her smile. "It's a wolf," he answered her, holding out his pad for her to see.

"Wow, you're a really good drawer!" she said, climbing up into the open seat next to him. "I can draw cats and dogs, but they just look all cartoony. That wolf looks real!"

Two-Bit, who was sitting in the seat next to him, chuckled at the little girl's enthusiasm. Ponyboy felt his cheeks flush, amazed that the simple adoration from a seven-year-old could make him feel so special.

"I wish I could draw good," the little girl went on. "If I could draw good, I'd draw horses! There are a lot of horses here. Sometimes Ronnie takes me to see them."

"Who's Ronnie?" Ponyboy inquired.

"He's my brother. I think he likes horses too, but he gets mad when I ask to go see them."

"Do you ask him to go a lot?" Two-Bit asked.

"Only like every day!"

"Sounds familiar," Two-Bit quipped and Ponyboy smiled. Two-Bit had first-hand experience with having a horse-enthusiast for a sister.

Ponyboy looked around the waiting room, searching for who this little girl might belong to. "Did you come here with your brother?" he asked.

The girl hugged her teddy bear into her chest. "Yeah, he's over there." She pointed across the waiting room to a young boy who was speaking with a doctor. "My mommy had one of her attacks last night." She suddenly had a forlorn expression on her face.

Ponyboy swallowed and glanced at Two-Bit, silently begging for him to cheer the girl up.

Two-Bit winked at him. "So you like horses, huh?" he asked, grabbing for Ponyboy's sketchpad. He flipped through it and found one of the many sketches Ponyboy had done of horses in the past. "That's this kid's forte."

It was true; Ponyboy did draw an awful lot of horses. Two-Bit handed the little girl the pad, showing a drawing of a mother horse standing sturdily beside her young colt.

"Wow," the little girl breathed, awestruck.

"You can have that one if you'd like," Ponyboy offered.

He got the reaction he wanted. "Really?" the girl asked, that big smile creeping back onto her face, eyes wide and hopeful.

"Really," he affirmed, and carefully tore the page out of the book for her to have.

"Thanks!" she exclaimed, grasping the drawing in her hand. She stood up in her seat and gave Ponyboy a big hug. "I love it."

Darry looked up from his magazine, raising his eyebrows at the sight of a little girl hanging around Ponyboy's neck in an embrace.

Ponyboy gave him a shrug and awkwardly patted the girl on the back.

"Connie!"

At the sound of what was apparently her name, the little girl released her grip and sat obediently back down in her seat.

Her brother was approaching them. "There you are," he said to the girl. "What did I tell you about talking to strangers?" He held out her hand for her to take, looking apologetically at Pony and Two-Bit. "She wasn't bothering you, was she?"

"Not at all," Ponyboy assured him. The boy looked exhausted - like he hadn't had a proper rest in days. He also looked to be about Pony's age. He had floppy, dirty blond hair, and Ponyboy wondered vaguely if he'd ever heard of hair grease. He sure could've used some.

"Ronnie, look at the drawing he gave me!" Connie said excitedly, holding the page up for her brother to see. "It's horses!"

"I can see that," Ronnie said, running a hand through his messy hair. He smiled sheepishly at Ponyboy. "Thanks," he said, his voice sincere. "You've really made her day with this."

"Uh yeah, it was no problem," Ponyboy said hurriedly, always nervous when speaking with people he didn't know very well.

"C'mon, Connie," the boy said, seemingly anxious to leave the waiting area. "We need to get you something to eat and then call Grammy."

"Okay," Connie sighed. She waved sadly at Ponyboy and Two-Bit, and reluctantly allowed her brother to usher her down the hall.

"Cute kid," Darry commented once they were out of earshot.

Ponyboy nodded in agreement.

"Ronnie and Connie," Two-Bit chuckled, shaking his head. "Entertaining name choices."

"Because they rhyme?" Ponyboy mock-scoffed. "Please. You do realize you're currently sandwiched between a Ponyboy and a Sodapop, don't you?"

Two-Bit considered. "Touché."

They fell silent again after that, the reality of their situation coming back into focus. Moments later, Soda stirred. He rubbed a tired hand across his face and sat up.

"Hey," Darry greeted gently, giving Soda's shoulder a tight squeeze. "You okay, Sodapop?"

"Mmhmm," Soda answered lazily, blinking a few times to adjust his eyes to the light. "How long was I out?"

"'Bout twenty minutes," Two-Bit answered.

"Any word?" Soda asked hopefully.

"Not yet," Darry told him, and Soda's face fell.

Darry met Pony's gaze and bit down on his lip. Then wrapped an arm around Soda's shoulders and let his brother bury his face in his chest.

Ponyboy sighed and focused his attention back on his drawing; his distraction.

He hoped they'd hear about Steve soon.


	13. Chapter 13

"Steve is stable. His blood pressure has returned to normal."

Darry let out a deep breath. He felt Soda's lower back muscles relax under his arm. The doctor had just given them the best news possible at the present time.

But Darry still wanted answers.

"Do you know what caused his blood pressure to drop?"

The doctor nodded. "We suspect dehydration. Steve was severely dehydrated, more so than we'd accounted for. He is now receiving a higher volume of fluid, which seems to be giving us the desired result. We will, of course, continue to monitor him closely for any further change."

Darry nodded.

"Can we see him?" Soda asked.

"He's sleeping now," the doctor said. "I won't stop you from being with him but what I recommend is that you boys take a break while you can. Get some food in you, maybe step outside for some fresh air. It's a beautiful day out there today." The doctor smiled warmly before walking away. "I'll leave it up to you boys."

Two-Bit raised his eyebrows at Soda. "What do you say, man?"

Soda just shook his head as Darry knew he would. He wanted Steve in his sight.

So they made their way back into Steve's room, and that's where they stayed until nightfall. Two-Bit only left to bring up some dinner.

* * *

Steve woke up periodically throughout the entire evening, but he never had enough strength to stay awake for long. He'd be awake for twenty minutes and then fall asleep for another two hours. Like clockwork.

Luckily, Two-Bit had the foresight to bring along some playing cards, so whenever Steve was asleep, the boys would play quiet card games. They lost count of how many games of  _War,_ and  _Euchre_ , and even  _Go Fish_  that they played. They kept their voices low and quiet, something foreign to them. They didn't want to disturb their ailing friend, but they wanted to be there when he woke up.

When Steve  _was_ awake, he was the center of attention. They did everything to make him comfortable, whether it be adjusting his pillows or helping him bring his glass of water to his lips. "You guys don't have to be here," Steve would say, afraid of being a burden. "I'll be okay. You can go. "

_Not a chance, Steve._

* * *

"You need to go home, Soda."

"Yeah, man. You need your rest."

Visiting hours were over and Darry was trying to convince Soda to go home and get some decent sleep. Two-Bit had joined in on his efforts. Steve was sleeping soundly.

"I don't want to leave him." Soda folded his arms across his chest. He was sitting in the armchair next to Steve's bed. "I won't be able to sleep, anyway."

"Soda, once your head hits a pillow, you'll be out like a light," Darry said, because he knew his brother. "You've been up for nearly 40 hours. Please, go home and get some proper sleep. In a bed."

"You're exhausted, Soda," Ponyboy chimed in quietly. "It won't do Steve any good if you don't take care of yourself, too."

"I'll keep a good eye on him," Darry said. He was the one that was planning to stay the night with Steve.

It was three against one, and Soda knew he wasn't going to win this battle. "Yeah, I know you will," he said softly. He glanced at Darry. "You'll call if anything happens?"

Darry nodded. "Of course."

Soda turned his attention back on Steve. "Okay," he breathed. "We'll be back tomorrow, first thing." He reached up to run a hand through Steve's hair. "Have a good night, Steve, you hear?"

Steve slept on.

Soda lifted his bones from the chair, eyes watering with tears that wouldn't fall. He crossed the room to where Darry was standing and gave him a hug.

"We'll tell Steve about his Uncle Gerry in the morning," Darry told him, resting his chin on Soda's head. They simply hadn't had a chance during the busy day they'd had. He gave his brother a tight squeeze. "Get some rest, little buddy. Everything will be better in the morning."

* * *

The first half of Darry's night with Steve went by smoothly. Darry was actually pretty comfortable in the chair that pulled out into a cot. He was able to grab a few hours of decent sleep.

But with how smoothly the first half of the night went, the second half was equally as rough. It was around 2:00 when Darry woke with a start to the sound of Steve gagging.

He was alert in a flash, instinctively reaching for the nearby emesis basin. He helped Steve sit up and lean over the bin in just the nick of time, cringing with sympathy as liquid erupted from his mouth. It was mostly just water and bile that came up; Steve had very little of anything with substance in his stomach.

Darry kept a firm hand on Steve's shoulder to keep him from pitching forward as the boy continued to get sick.

Steve's eyes were closed as he remained hovering over the bin. Involuntary moans escaped from his lips and Darry found himself wishing he could take this from the kid.

All of it.

Instead, all he could do was murmur false reassurances.

When Steve's stomach no longer had anything else to give, he stopped gagging. But Darry knew he was still extremely nauseated. He could tell by the was he was swallowing convulsively, the way his eyes remained closed, the way he spoke Darry's name. "Darry…"  _Make it stop. Please make it stop._

Darry swallowed hard and helped Steve lean back against the pillows. "I'm gonna get a nurse in here," he said gently. "Okay?"

Steve could only nod.

Darry paged the nurse and then grabbed ahold of Steve's clammy hand. He reached up to feel the kid's forehead, cursing under his breath at the fever Steve was running.

A nurse bustled in just seconds later. "You paged?" she asked sweetly, going directly to Steve's side.

"He vomited," Darry told her. "He's still feeling nauseated and I think he's spiked another fever."

"M'stomach," Steve whispered, cradling an arm around his middle, tears starting to leak from his eyes. The nurse was fiddling with some of the tubes Steve was hooked up to. "Darry…"

"He says his stomach hurts," Darry told the nurse, not sure if the nurse had heard her patient. Darry took Steve's hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Where does you stomach hurt, Steve?" the nurse asked. "Can you show me?" She carefully pulled Steve's arm away from his middle.

Steve hissed in pain at the release of pressure. Darry noticed he was favoring his right side.

The nurse noticed too.

She paged a doctor. "We need to get Steve down to radiology," she told Darry. "It might be his appendix."

Darry's heart skipped.

So much for everything being better in the morning.


	14. Chapter 14

Soda found himself walking down a dirt road.

He wasn't sure where this road led. It twisted and turned its way through a grass field, and he couldn't see anything beyond the horizon. The sun was setting in the distance.

Steve was next to him, dressed in his jeans and a leather coat, a spring in his step, the ghost of a smile on his face.

On his other side was a younger version of Ponyboy. A version that still held onto Soda's hand, still had eyes bright with wonder and innocence.

In front of him, Darry was walking tall, wearing his old and weathered letterman's jacket. Next to him, their father. Soda could hear hear the low rumble of his father's voice as he and Darry shot the breeze about football, their conversations always so seamless.

Their mother was there too, arms linked with her husband, head resting on his shoulder. Her favorite sundress, the light yellow one, was flowing in the wind, giving the illusion that she was floating. Her golden hair was dancing in the breeze.

Behind Soda were the others. Two-Bit's laugh carrying through the air as he told dozens of jokes they'd all heard before. The distinct smell from Dally's cigarette, always a Kool, wafting into Soda's senses. The soft footfalls of Johnny Cade, pattering in step with the others.

And then a car horn, the sound of crunching metal, distant screams…

Soda blinked, and they were gone.

Now only Darry remained in front of him, shed of his letterman's jacket, hair wearing thin, visible tension in his neck and shoulders.

Ponyboy was gripping his hand more tightly now.

And Sandy, the old Sandy, the one he loved, was whispering sweet nothings in his ear, her arm wrapped around his waist. She was between Steve. A Steve with his forehead pressed adoringly against his own Evie. The Evie  _he_  loved.

Soda looked down, and Ponyboy wasn't there.

Missing.

He turned around. Johnny.

Missing.

He turned back. Sandy.

Gone.

A church was burning in the distance.

Soda stopped walking, feet caught beneath him, and now he was enveloped in a hug. Darry.  _Pony._

His brother was back; he was blond and he was a  _hero_.

Johnny was back too, a heap on the ground, covered in ash, struggling for air - for life.

Dallas was kneeling beside him, Johnny collected in his arms.  _Don_ _'_ _t die, Johnny, please don_ _'_ _t die_. Desperate tears slid down his cheeks.

But the image of Johnny faded, and Dally was left holding nothing but air.

Gunshots.

Three of them.

Dally's last breath of life.

Gone.

Ponyboy dropping like lead.

Everything a blur.

World spinning.

Soda's gut twisted and he turned to look at Steve, but he was no longer next to him.

He was running - charging - down the dirt road.

And Soda couldn't breathe.

_No, no, no._

He ran after him, chest burning, eyes watering. He was going to catch up. He  _had_ to catch up.

Steve was on his back, unconscious, stripped of his jeans and jacket. Clad in a hospital gown, abdomen bleeding profusely. Soda dropped to his knees.

White. Corpse-like.

Sick.

Soda pulled him into his body, chest on fire.  _Steve. No, no, no. You can_ _'_ _t. We can_ _'_ _t._

_I can_ _'_ _t._

_I can_ _'_ _t lose you._

"Soda!" Ponyboy was calling his name, but he couldn't see him. Someone was tapping his cheek, furiously. "C'mon, Soda, open your eyes."

Soda blinked, and Ponyboy - the real Ponyboy - appeared in his line of vision. He was in their bedroom; the dirt road, the sunset, they were all gone.

But the panic was still there.

Vaguely, Soda realized that he was sitting up now, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. He didn't remember getting into that position. Ponyboy must've moved him.

But that was the least of his worries. Right now, he couldn't breathe.

Black dots were dancing in front of his eyes and he felt hot. Ponyboy's face was in front of his, worry and concern etched into its features. "Soda, you need to breathe," his brother said, voice wavering. He cupped a hand behind Soda's neck. "It was just a dream. Just breathe.  _Please._ "

But there was a weight on Soda's chest. It felt like his entire frame was caving in. "I… can't…" he choked out.

"Yes you can, Soda," Ponyboy said firmly. "I know you can."

Soda's entire body was tense, his back bowed as he braced his palms on his knees. Tears were dripping down his face.  _What the hell is wrong with me?_

He coughed, choking on the stale air as he tried to push it into his lungs. His hands and feet were numb and he was near certain he was going to pass out. In the back of his mind, he wondered vaguely if he was dying, and that made his heart pound even harder in his chest.

He tried to stand up, because he was hot - too hot - and he felt like the room was shrinking in on him. But Ponyboy pushed him back down.

"I don't feel good," Soda announced, his voice breaking. "Pony…"

And now Ponyboy was shouting for Two-Bit.

Soda let himself fall forward so his head was resting on Ponyboy's chest. He could hear how heavily he was panting and he just wanted it to stop.

"Please, Soda. You need to calm down. You're okay."

His weight was shifted. More tapping on his cheek. "C'mon, Soda, don't pass out on us." That was Two-Bit.

A hand started rubbing the tense muscles in his back.

Soda's gut clenched and he fought the urge to heave.

He opened his eyes. Two-Bit's forehead was pressed against his own. "Breathe with me, man," his friend said, taking deep breaths, hoping Soda would follow suit.

Soda moaned and tried to match his breathing with Two-Bit's. They were shallow, shuddering breaths, but finally,  _finally_ , he was able to get air into his lungs.

"That's it. Good," Two-Bit praised. "Keep breathing."

They stayed in that position, foreheads pressed against one another, breathing in rhythm, until Soda had completely calmed down.

Soda kept his eyes closed, humiliated to say the least. When he felt like he could sit up under his own steam, he mumbled, "M'okay."

"Like hell you are," Two-Bit said, and his voice no longer sounded like he was underwater. He pulled away and he and Ponyboy helped Soda lean back against the headboard.

Soda reopened his eyes to see a tear-streaked Ponyboy standing at the foot of the bed and a serious-faced Two-Bit. "M'sorry," Soda said quietly, looking down at his hands. "I don't know what that was."

"It was a panic attack," Two-Bit told him. "It wasn't your fault."

"A panic attack?" Ponyboy questioned, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Two-Bit nodded. "My mom's had one before. When she had that pregnancy scare a while back." He squeezed Soda's shoulder. "You all right now?"

"I think so," Soda said, not completely sure of himself. He was still a little shaken up.

"You have a bad dream?" Two-Bit asked.

Soda nodded. "Bad" didn't even cover it. Terrible. Horrific.  _Haunting._

"About Steve?" Ponyboy asked.

Soda swallowed. "About everything," he said, his voice small.

Ponyboy nodded. He knew all to well what that was like. He climbed back into bed, settling in next to Soda's trembling body. "You know,  _I_ _'_ _m_  the one who's supposed to have nightmares," he reminded his brother.

Soda chuckled nervously and ran his hands through his hair. "Well, apparently it's catching," he said, glancing at the clock. It was 2:30 in morning. "Sorry for waking y'all up."

"You don't have to apologize for waking us up," Two-Bit said. "But you do have to apologize for scarin' the living shit out of us. Right Pone?"

"Right." Ponyboy snuggled closer to his brother.

"Sorry," Soda said again. And he was. He hadn't liked seeing those tear-tracks on his brother's cheeks, knowing he was the one who'd put them there.

"I'm going to get you a glass of water, okay?" Two-Bit said. "That sound good?"

Soda swallowed, realizing his throat was sore and scratchy from all the screaming and crying he'd done. "Yeah, thanks Two-Bit."

Once Two-Bit left the room, Ponyboy asked, "You sure you're okay, Soda?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay. I bet you're really tired, huh?"

As if on cue, Soda yawned. "Yeah, but I don't really want to go back to sleep."

"Want me to read to you?"

Soda smiled. Whenever Ponyboy had a nightmare, Darry and Soda would often read to him until he fell back asleep. "Sure, Pone, that'd be great."

Two-Bit returned with the glass of water, then retired back to the couch to watch some TV.

Soda drank the water down greedily, letting it soothe his sore throat.

Ponyboy began reading  _Great Expectations_ , the book he'd been assigned to read over summer break.

Soda didn't pay attention to the story. He just listened to his brother's drawl, letting it lull him back into oblivion. He was asleep before Ponyboy reached chapter two.

Soda slept soundly for twenty minutes.

And then the phone rang.


	15. Chapter 15

Ponyboy and Soda jolted awake to the sound of the telephone ringing. They wasted no time in kicking off the covers and hurrying into the TV room, where Two-Bit had already picked up the receiver. He'd taken a seat in Darry's armchair next to the telephone.

They knew it was Darry calling. No one else would be trying to reach them at this hour.

And they knew it meant something had happened with Steve.

Soda eased himself onto the couch, listening and watching Two-Bit intently. Ponyboy sat down next to his brother, praying with all his might that Steve was okay. Because he wasn't sure that Soda could handle the alternative.

He wasn't sure if  _he_ could.

Two-Bit was chewing on his lower lip, listening carefully to what Darry was saying. His expression was the picture of worry. Concern.

"His appendix?" he said, repeating some of what Darry was telling him over the line so that Pony and Soda would know what was going on. "Do you want us to come down there?"

Ponyboy felt Soda tense beside him. He slung an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"He's in surgery now?" Two-Bit asked, his expression relaxing at what Darry said next. "Okay, good. That's good."

Soda swallowed. "Let me talk to him," he said, shrugging off Ponyboy's arm and starting to stand up.

Two-Bit held up a finger and Soda sat back down obediently.

"Yeah, Darry. Are you okay?" Two-Bit ran a hand through his hair, while Darry gave a lengthy answer. "Okay, well just hang in there, man. Don't apologize. Hey, Soda wants to talk to you." He paused. He glanced at Soda and hesitated before speaking again. "Actually, he's not doing too hot."

Soda rolled his eyes. "I'm fine!" he said loudly, exasperated.

Two-Bit continued talking like he hadn't spoken. "Yeah, some. But he had a nightmare and woke up really upset. Scared the hell outta me and Ponyboy."

"You did really scare us," Ponyboy told his brother softly.

"I know, Pone," Soda returned, voice clipped. He was obviously focused on figuring out what was going on with Steve. "I said I was sorry. I'm okay now."

"He's doin' okay now," Two-Bit told Darry, echoing Soda's words. "We got him calmed down pretty quick."

"Two-Bit!" Soda held his hand out expectantly.

"Yeah, here he is. Okay. Bye, Curtis." Two-Bit handed the phone over to Soda.

Soda snatched it out of his hands. "Darry? What's goin' on?"

Two-Bit sighed and then nodded toward the front door. "C'mon," he said to Ponyboy. "I'll fill you in."

The pair headed outside to the stoop, the cool nighttime air greeting them readily.

* * *

Two-Bit didn't beat around the bush.

"Steve's appendix is infected. They're taking it out as we speak. Apparently the antibiotics weren't working quickly enough, and the infection spread."

Ponyboy swallowed hard, a rush of overwhelming sympathy sweeping over him. Not something he was used to feeling for Steve Randle. But if it wasn't one thing, it was another. Steve  _really_  couldn't catch a break. "Isn't that dangerous?" he asked. "Doing an appendectomy when Steve is already so ill?"

Two-Bit nodded. "Yeah, Darry said there's a greater risk for complications. But they don't really have an alternative option. They need to remove it now, or it could rupture."

"Does Darry want us to go down there?"

"He said we should leave it up to Sodapop, but he didn't think it would do much good if we came. Steve's going to be on anesthesia so he wouldn't even know we were there." Two-Bit let out a deep breath. "What do you think, kid?"

Ponyboy took a seat on the stoop. "I think we should stay here," he answered. "Soda clearly needs a break."

Two-Bit dropped down next to him. "Yeah, no kidding. You know he's going to want to go back, though."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

Soda surprised them both.

After hanging up with Darry, he joined them outside, sitting heavily between his brother and friend. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"I don't want to go back," he said softly, staring blankly ahead at the deserted street. "How awful is that? My best friend is sick - is getting fucking  _surgery_  - and the hospital is the last place I want to be."

Ponyboy and Two-Bit exchanged a puzzled glance. That was not at all the reaction they were expecting, but they understood.

"It's not awful," Two-Bit said quietly. "You're overwhelmed, Soda. We all are. It's okay to feel like you need a break." He paused. "And you know what else? It's okay to take one, too."

Soda ran his hands through his hair. "Yeah?" he whispered, clearly not taking what Two-Bit was saying with much conviction.

"Yeah," Two-Bit echoed.

Ponyboy saw unshed tears glistening in Soda's eyes, and he knew Soda might need a little more convincing. He rested a hand on his brother's thigh. "Remember Steve isn't alone. You trust Darry to keep a good eye on him, don't you?"

Soda let out a shuddering breath and nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"Good," Two-Bit said firmly. "Then I say we head back to bed. It'll be good for you to stay here and get your bearings. Recharge."

Soda let the thought sink in. "Okay," he said finally, his voice caught between nervousness and relief. "I… We'll go see him in the morning."

With a plan in mind, the boys returned inside to get some more shut-eye.

Sleep did not come easily.

* * *

Around eleven o'clock the following morning, the boys were taking the elevator back up to the ICU, where Steve was in recovery. Darry had called them earlier that morning to report that Steve's surgery had gone well. Ponyboy was the one that spoke with him. He'd gotten up earlier than Two-Bit and Sodapop and had answered the phone after one ring.

Darry said Steve was sleeping now, and probably would for the majority of the day. But that didn't stop the guys from coming. Not only did they want to see that Steve was okay with their own eyes, but they wanted to give Darry a break. He sounded exhausted.

As they stepped off the elevator, Ponyboy was surprised to see the little girl he'd talked to the previous day, waiting to get on. She was holding her brother's hand, her teddy bear still tucked under her arm.

"Look who it is, Ronnie!" she exclaimed happily. "It's the wolf-man!"

Ponyboy chuckled at his new nickname. "Hi, Connie," he said, finding in amazing how this girl could instantly cheer him up.

The boy smiled nervously, rolling his eyes at his little sister. He tugged her a little closer. "Hi," he said to them shyly, giving them each a quick glance. He did a double take when his eyes landed on Soda, though.

Ponyboy looked at his brother, who was gaping at the boy. "You… you're…" Soda was struggling to get a sentence out.

Ronnie was capable of putting the revelation into words:

"You're one of the guys who saved me," he said, eyes wide and sure. He ignored the elevator as it came and went. "I never had the chance to thank you."


	16. Chapter 16

Darry was surprised when two unexpected visitors appeared at the doorway to Steve's room along with the others.

It was the little girl from yesterday who'd been entranced by Ponyboy's drawings. She was holding on tightly to her older brother's hand.

Darry stood up slowly in greeting. Steve was still knocked out from his surgery that had gone "as well as expected, given the circumstances," thank God. It had been a long night, but Darry finally felt like he could breathe again.

That being said, breathing easily was short-lived when he laid eyes on Sodapop. His brother looked wrecked. It seemed like exhaustion and apprehension were permanently etched into his features these days.

"Hey, Darry," Soda said meekly, crossing the room to his brother.

"Hey, little buddy," Darry murmured into Soda's hair as he enveloped his brother in a hug. "You doin' okay?"

He hadn't liked what Two-Bit told him on the phone; that Soda had woken up really upset from a nightmare. It was just one more thing. One more thing to add to Darry's long list of worries.

"Yeah," Soda mumbled into Darry's shoulder. He swallowed and pulled away from the embrace. "I'm okay."

Darry glanced at his youngest brother for confirmation. Ponyboy gave a slight shake of the head in answer as Soda took a seat – his post – in the chair by Steve's bed.

Darry cleared his throat gruffly, glancing at the two kids who were still standing awkwardly in the doorway with Two-Bit. "I see Steve has a couple more visitors."

"Yeah… Darry, this is Ronnie and Connie," Two-Bit introduced the siblings. "You probably remember them from yesterday."

Darry smiled warmly. "I do."

"Dar, Ronnie is the boy the Socs jumped," Ponyboy said. "He's the boy that Steve an' Soda saved."

Darry raised his eyebrows. "No kiddin'?"

"I-I actually prefer to be called 'Ron,'" the boy spoke up nervously. "'Ronnie' is just what my sister calls me."

"Nice to meet you, Ron," Darry acknowledged.

"Kid just wanted to come by and see Steve," Two-Bit said, nudging Ron slightly forward.

But Ron resisted. "It's okay," he said, looking down at his feet. "I-I don't have to come inside. We were actually just heading down to the cafeteria…"

"Mind if I join?" Darry asked before he could stop himself. For some reason, he was drawn to this boy. He could see a lot of himself reflected in him, just by the look in his eyes. Something was weighing down on the kid; he had too much on his shoulders.

And Darry knew that feeling all too well.

"I haven't eaten yet this morning and wouldn't mind the company," Darry added, realizing that he was probably intimidating the poor kid. Darry was a big guy, and he was built too. Ron was scrawny, much younger, and clearly very shy. Darry thought he'd turn his offer down.

But he didn't.

"Yeah… sure, I guess," Ron answered, making circles on the floor with his shoe. "If you want."

"Darry, after you get something to eat, you need to go home and get some rest, man," Two-Bit said.

Darry bit down on his lip, knowing the gang wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "Actually, I need to go into work," he said. "I got a little bit of sleep last night. I'll be fine."

"Darry…" Pony's voice was uncertain.

"Look, it's just a half-day, and then it'll be the weekend. I can recover then."

"It's not worth it, Dar," Soda spoke up.

"Yeah, it is," Darry maintained. "It is if I want to stay in Wyatt's good graces. You guys know I'm countin' on a raise."

Soda sighed in defeat and ran his hands through his hair. Darry figured he was too worn out to put up a fight. "Fine. Just be careful, Darry."

"I will be."

As he turned to head out of Steve's room, a thought occurred to him.

"Hey, Soda?"

"Yeah?"

"When Steve wakes up, you make sure to tell him about his Uncle Gerry."

Soda nodded. "Yeah, I'll tell him."

"All right." Darry tapped the doorframe as he followed Ron and Connie out the door. "Catch you guys later."

* * *

"So, where are you from?" Darry asked Ron as they set their trays down at an open table in the cafeteria. It was pretty obvious that they were new in town. Ron didn't have the hardened look that came from living on the East side of Tulsa.

"We're from Branson," Ron answered as his little sister climbed into his lap. They were sharing a tray of food. "We moved here at the start of summer."

Darry's heart sunk for the kid. Moving was hard, but moving at the start of summer? How in the world was the he supposed to get to know anybody?

"Missouri huh? What brought you here?"

Ron sighed. "A whole bunch of things. I guess I should start off by telling you that a couple years ago, my mom started having seizures and was diagnosed with epilepsy. At first, they only happened once every two months or so, but this past year they started happening a lot more. She had to quit her job because of it."

"Is that why your mom's in the hospital right now? She had a seizure?"

"Yeah. One of her worst ones yet. She's okay; they just want to keep her here while she recovers. It was a grand mal and it took a lot out of her. She hit her head on the kitchen table on the way down too, so she's got a pretty nasty concussion."

"Jesus," Darry mumbled. Poor woman.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. He handed Connie some of his French fries and told her to eat. "Anyway, my mom grew up in Tulsa, and my grandma still lives here. We moved in with her because my mom couldn't afford rent once she gave up her job. It just made sense because my grandma's old age is catchin' up with her. She can't move around as well as she used to. It's hard for her to leave the house."

"What about your dad?" Darry asked, taking a bite of his potatoes. "He in the picture?"

"He would be, but he's over in Vietnam right now."

Gosh, Darry's heart was breaking for this kid. "Marines?"

Ron nodded.

Darry felt sick. It seemed like Ron had to look after his sister whenever his mom wasn't well. And his grandma too. That was a helluva burden for a boy who was only…

"How old are you, kid?"

"Fourteen."

Darry cursed under his breath. That wasn't right. Darry knew what it was like to have responsibility thrust upon him. Responsibility that no one his age should have to take on. And sure, Ron's parents hadn't passed away, but they weren't always present either. Ron was left picking up the slack. At fourteen.

_Fourteen._

Darry cleared his throat gruffly, trying to swallow back the emotion he felt rising in his chest. "So, you're going into high school this fall?" he asked trying to lighten the mood.

Ron nodded and took a bite of his chicken.

"My youngest brother, Ponyboy… he's gonna be a sophomore. He can show you the ropes."

A ghost of a smile flashed across Ron's lips. "That'd be good."

"I'm gonna be in second grade!" Connie chimed in happily.

Ron leaned forward and kissed her on top of the head. "Yes, you are," he said proudly.

Darry stared at the two of them in awe. It was like Connie was the most important thing in the world to Ron. And once again, Darry was seeing parallels. Because the way Ron felt about Connie – it was how Darry felt about his brothers.

Connie proceeded to launch herself into a detailed soliloquy of everything she'd done in first grade, and kept them entertained all the way through the rest of their lunch.

* * *

"Hey Darry, is your friend Steve gonna be okay?" Ron asked. "I mean, he's gonna pull through, right?"

When Darry had found out that Ron and Connie were going to take the bus home to check on their grandmother, he insisted that he drop them off on his way to work.

He glanced over at Ron who was sitting in the passenger seat. Connie was sound asleep in his lap. "Steve's a fighter," Darry told him. "And tough as nails. So yeah, I think he'll pull through."

"Good," Ron said, his voice shaking a bit. "Because I need to thank him."

Darry took his eyes off the road for a brief moment to look at the boy next to him. He was hanging his head. "Hey, Ron? You ain't blamin' yourself for Steve being ill, are you?"

Ron shrugged and sniffed. "If he hadn't gotten involved, he wouldn't have gotten cut…"

"Yeah, and those Socs could've killed you," Darry said, his voice serious. "I mean it, kid. You have to watch your back in this town. It ain't good."

"That's my point," Ron mumbled. "My grandma warned me not to walk the streets alone, but I didn't listen." There was a beat of silence. "I just wanted to get out, you know?"

Yeah, Darry knew.

"You don't get to blame yourself for this," he told Ron firmly. "If you're going to blame someone, blame the guys that jumped you. Or blame me. I'm the one that cleaned Steve's wound and patched him up. I should've been more thorough."

Ron was shaking his head. "If I don't get to blame myself, then you don't either," he said. "Deal?"

Darry smiled at his own logic being used against him. He reached across to pat Ron on the knee.

"Yeah, kid," he said softly. "Deal."


	17. Chapter 17

Steve didn't wake up once.

Soda wasn't surprised. He remembered what it was like when he'd had his appendectomy when he was really young. His mind was muddled from all the pain medication and he was downright exhausted. And Steve was enduring that  _on top_  of his sepsis diagnosis. Soda couldn't even imagine.

Soda slept too, by the insistence of Two-Bit and Ponyboy. They let him have the chair that pulled out into a cot, while they quietly played cards. Soda agreed to try and get some shut-eye, as long as they woke him if Steve woke up.

He fell asleep easily. With how tired he was, even the lumpy and springy mattress made him feel like he was lying on clouds. He found it was easier to give into oblivion when Steve was close by.

* * *

Soda woke up, unprompted, after a good three hours. He sat up slowly, his head pounding due to lack of nourishment. He hadn't been very hungry the past few days. Everything he'd tried to eat tasted like ash.

Aside from the still sleeping Steve, only Ponyboy was in the room, focused intently on his sketchbook.

"Hey, Pone, where'd Two-Bit go?" Soda asked, his voice hoarse and strained. He wiped a tired hand over his face.

Ponyboy looked up, surprised. "Oh hey, you're awake," he said. "Two-Bit went down to the cafeteria. He's bringing us up some sandwiches."

Soda nodded vaguely. He knew he needed to eat, even if he didn't have much of an appetite.

He turned his attention on Steve, reaching out to run his fingers through his friend's hair.

"He's restless," Ponyboy told Soda. "He's been mumbling in his sleep some. He'll probably wake up soon."

"Okay," Soda said softly.

He swung his legs over the side of the cot and stood up. He started folding it back up so it was back to its armchair form, but got a little light-headed. He paused what he was doing for a second to get his bearings.

Ponyboy jumped up from his own chair and crossed the room to help. "Here, let me," he said, gently nudging Soda out of the way.

"I can do it," Soda protested.

"Soda, you're shaking," Ponyboy said seriously, as he lifted up and folded the mattress back into place.

Soda blinked. "I am?"

"Yeah." Ponyboy took him by the arm and had him sit back down. He crouched down in front of him and put a hand on Soda's shoulder. "You feel sick?"

Soda clasped his hands together, because Ponyboy was right. They were shaking. He was trembling all over and he wasn't sure why. He hadn't noticed.

Soda met his brother's eyes. They were filled with concern, and Soda almost wanted to laugh. He wasn't the one to be concerned about. "Me? Ponyboy, I'm fine."

Pony gave him a skeptical look. "I ain't buyin' it," he said. "You sound congested. And you're really pale. You looked like you were gonna topple over just now when you stood up."

Soda ran his hands through his hair and turned his mind off of Steve for a brief moment in order to focus on himself. The anxious look on Ponboy's face convinced him enough.

And if he was being totally honest with himself, he supposed he did feel a little off.

But then again, he'd felt off all week. Something he attributed to the sleepless nights and the emotional stress of his Steve's downward spiral. Not to mention the anxiety of making it through his parents' death anniversary.

If anything, it was just a common cold that was ailing him. And his lack of sleep wasn't helping matters. That would explain the sore throat and the stuffed up nose and head. In comparison to Steve, his condition was laughable.

"So maybe I caught a cold or somethin'," Soda admitted. "It ain't a big deal, Pony."

Ponyboy looked up at him with sad, greenish-gray orbs. "Soda, you know Steve's not supposed to be exposed to any germs," he said gently.

Soda felt like he'd been punched in the gut at the reminder. Visitors were strongly advised to stay away from patients if they were feeling ill. Something about Steve's weakened immune system and how something – even something as minor as a cold – could complicate and worsen the patient's condition.

"Soda, c'mon, don't cry," Pony said.

"I ain't cryin'," Soda insisted, reaching his hands up to his cheeks in proof. Only he found some wetness there.

Oh.

His bottom lip started to tremble and he looked at Steve's unmoving form on the bed. "I-I don't want to leave him, Pony."

"I know, Soda. C'mere." Ponyboy guided him so that Soda could lean his weight on him and held him in embrace. Soda buried his face into the crevice of Pony's neck while Pony rubbed circles in his back.

Which happened to be the exact moment that Two-Bit returned with the sandwiches. "What's goin' on?"

"You were right, Two-Bit," Ponyboy said quietly, not letting go of his brother. "Soda's not doin' so hot. I think he's runnin' a fever."

"It's just a dumb cold," Soda insisted, pulling away from Pony.

"Maybe," Two-Bit agreed. "But Soda, you know you're not supposed to be in here if you're not feeling 100%."

"I  _know_ ," Soda snapped, feeling immediately guilty at being so harsh. But he was too tired to apologize.

Two-Bit didn't seem to mind. If anything, his voice got gentler. Softer. "You need to let me drive you home, man. I'm sorry."

Soda let out a wavering sigh, and stared longingly at Steve. Then he nodded, showing his surrender. As much as he didn't want to leave his best friend, he also didn't want to be the reason for making him any sicker.

"Pony, are you gonna stay here?" he asked. And damn, if his voice didn't sound like he'd been gargling rocks…

"Yeah, Soda, of course," Ponyboy assured, holding a hand out to help his brother stand up. "And I'll call you if anything happens," he added quickly before Soda could even ask.

"And you'll tell him about his Uncle Gerry?"

Pony nodded. "That'll be the icebreaker."

Soda smiled sadly at his brother. "Thanks," he told him sincerely. He knew that Ponyboy must feel a little uncomfortable about being the only one to stay with Steve, especially since the two of them had never been on the best of terms.

Two-Bit put a hand behind Soda's back for support. "Pone, I'll come back once Darry gets home from work," he said. "Sound good?"

"Yeah," he said. And god love him, he gave Soda the most reassuring smile he could muster. "Everything'll be okay," he said, giving his brother's arm a gentle squeeze. "Feel better, Soda."

With that, Soda cast one more glance at Steve, and then allowed Two-Bit to lead him out of the room.

And nothing was okay.


	18. Chapter 18

"Soda?"

Ponyboy snapped into attention at the sound of Steve's voice. He'd been dozing the best he could in the armchair, hoping that Steve would stay asleep until Two-Bit returned.

No such luck.

"Soda?" Steve said again, his head rolled to the side, fevered eyes focusing blankly on Ponyboy. His voice was muffled over the ventilator he was hooked up to.

"No, man, it's me. Pony." Ponyboy sat up and leaned forward so Steve could see his face better.

Steve blinked and then tried to sit up under his own steam with little success. Ponyboy saw that he was struggling and quickly jumped up from his chair to help pull him into the seated position.

"Thanks," Steve mumbled as Ponyboy propped a pillow behind his back. He took his ventilator mask off and hooked it onto the machine.

"Sure, Steve," Pony said simply. "Don't move around too much, okay? You had your appendix out this morning."

Steve took a deep breath. "I did?"

Ponyboy furrowed his brow. "Yeah," he said slowly. "You don't remember?"

Steve's eyes turned fearful as he shook his head, tears threatening to spill.

"Hey, that's okay, Steve." Ponyboy was quick to reassure him. "You've been awfully sick. It's okay if you can't remember."

Steve shifted slightly, not consoled by Ponyboy's words. He let out a quiet moan of discomfort and his eyes slipped closed. "Where's Soda?" he asked weakly.

Ponyboy's stomach sank. Steve was upset and maybe even a little scared. Of course he wanted Soda. Pony wished he didn't have to be the messenger of bad news.

"He had to go home," he answered as delicately as he could, wincing as Steve's face fell. "He caught a cold and wasn't allowed to be in here anymore," he further explained. "Two-Bit drove him back."

"And Darry?" Steve croaked.

Ponyboy settled back into the armchair. "He had to go into work."

Steve reopened his bleary eyes, and Ponyboy's heart clenched when he saw tears spill down his cheeks. "So you got stuck with me, huh?"

Ponyboy swallowed hard. "No, Steve. It ain't like that." Impulsively, he reached for Steve's hand, knowing he was out of his element, but wanting to offer comfort _somehow_.

In all honestly, he was expecting Steve to flinch away. But he didn't. He even relaxed at Ponyboy's touch, letting his eyes slip close again. Ponyboy knew he must be feeling pretty lousy if he was allowing himself to be so vulnerable.

And it was strangely intimate, Ponyboy realized, as he rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of Steve's hand. Because their relationship – or lack thereof – had always consisted of butting heads and jabbing remarks.

But this moment… the comforting gesture and resounding silence between them… it was actually kind of nice. An unspoken truce.

"How're you feelin' Steve?" Ponyboy asked, after a few moments, not wanting Steve to fall back asleep before a nurse came to check on him.

"Everything hurts," he rasped in an answer. "I just want this to be over. I want to go ho—" He broke off, not able to actually say the word "home," and Pony was pretty certain he knew why.

"We all want you to come home too, Steve," he said, emphasizing the word in question, because Steve needed to understand that the Curtis house  _was_  his home. "You have to keep fighting, okay? Soda would lose his gourd if you checked out on us. We all would."

Steve shook his head, disbelieving. He pulled his hand out of Ponyboy's grasp. "All I do is cause you guys grief," he said, over some sobs that had started to build in his chest. "And I-I don't know if I can..." he trailed off, voice thick with emotion and unable to continue.

"If you can what?" Ponyboy prompted.

"Keep doing this," he whispered. "I can't take much more."

Panic crept into Ponyboy's chest. Because he was smart enough to hear what Steve was saying between the lines:  _I want to give up._

"Steve, don't talk like that," Ponyboy admonished, hoping that Steve was just talking crazy because of his fever. He wished with all his might that Two-Bit would return. Because Steve's words took him back to that fateful night with Johnny, when they were lying beneath the stars in the vacant lot. Johnny had said the same thing.  _I can't take much more. I'll kill myself or something._

Steve sniffed and raised a shaky arm to run his hand through his sweat-damp hair. He wouldn't look Pony in the eye.

"It's gonna get better," Ponyboy said softly, desperate to get Steve away from his current state of thinking. "Actually, I have something to tell you that proves it already  _is_ getting better."

"Yeah, what's that?" Steve mumbled, obviously not taking what Ponyboy was saying with much conviction.

"Your dad's in rehab, Steve."

Steve turned his head to look at Ponyboy, mouth open in shock. But he quickly shut it, shaking his head slightly. "That c-can't be true," he insisted. "We ain't got the money."

"No, but your Uncle Gerry does."

Steve swallowed hard. "What're you tellin' me here, Pony?" he asked lowly, and Ponyboy could tell he wasn't letting himself get too hopeful.

"I'm telling you that your Uncle Gerry is back in the States. He's here. In Tulsa, Steve."

Steve let the words sink in. And then he did something that threw Ponyboy for a loop.

He  _smiled_.

It was the first time Ponyboy had seen him crack a smile in ages, and it gave him hope. Granted, the smile was watery and timid and featured on a much too pale face, but it was a smile. An honest to God smile.

Darry wasn't kidding when he said Steve's Uncle Gerry was almost too good to be true. Ponyboy believed it now that just the thought of him had turned Steve's spirits around.

Steve wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Is he going to come visit me?"

Ponyboy nodded. "Yeah. That's the word on the street."

Steve was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. "Pony, what about my mom? Is she back?"

Ponyboy froze, knowing the truth would sting. "Yeah, man," he said gently. "Darry went to your place yesterday morning and found out she's been back for about three weeks."

Steve sniffed and then nodded. "Figures," he mumbled. "She ain't gonna come see me, is she?"

"Not if you don't want her to," Ponyboy assured him firmly.

"Good," Steve said with a shaky sigh.

Ponyboy smiled sadly at him and then reached up to feel his forehead. "You're pretty warm, Steve. I think I ought to get a nurse in here. Maybe get you some pain meds, yeah?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, sinking back into the pillows.

So Ponyboy reached across him to page a nurse, then settled back into the armchair while they waited.

The drawing he'd been spending the majority of his time on sat on the table in front of him. It was a drawing of a hungry, but sturdy wolf looking up at a tree, in desperate search of prey. He'd been separated from his pack, and hunting was hard to take on alone.

It was an image that had flashed across the screen several times during the documentary playing in the waiting room.

For some reason, it had struck a cord with Ponyboy, and as he looked at it now, he understood why.

That wolf, the one he'd been trying so hard to replicate the past couple of days, reminded him of one Steve Randle.

Imagine that.


	19. Chapter 19

Darry arrived home from work, putting the car in park in front of the chain-link fence. He was exhausted and was looking forward to falling asleep in his armchair when he returned.

That is, until he saw Two-Bit's car parked in the drive.

Darry was smart enough to know that meant something was wrong. He just didn't know to what extent.

He opened the screen door quietly and was greeted with the sight of Two-Bit sprawled out on the couch, a meager sheet hanging off his leg. He was fast asleep, arms raised up to cover his eyes.

The door closed quietly behind him, but the subtle click was enough to startle Two-Bit awake.

"Darry?" he rasped out, swiping a tired hand across his face.

"Hey," Darry said quietly. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"Naw, it's okay," Two-Bit said, running a hand through his much too greasy hair. "I was just closin' my eyes until to you got home."

"What's going on?" Darry asked, slinging his work belt around a hook of the coat rack that stood by the front door. "Are you okay? Why aren't you at the hospital? Are Soda and Pony still there? How's Steve?"

"Whoa, slow down, Superman. One question at a time. I feel like I'm being interrogated here."

Darry blushed. "Right. Sorry."

"Sit down, okay?" Two-Bit said. "You look spent."

Darry believed it. He felt like a zombie: body aching, head pounding, sleep calling out to him… So he took heed to Two-Bit's suggestion and sunk into the armchair, cursing the summer heat that permeated around the room.

"Okay, Mathews, talk to me."

Two-Bit cleared his throat and met Darry's eyes nervously. "I brought Soda home because he's under the weather. A cold, I think. He's in the bedroom."

Darry sighed. No wonder Soda had looked so wrecked earlier. He was sick on top of everything else. "He sleeping?"

"I hope," Two-Bit answered grimly. "He was really upset about having to leave Steve."

Darry nodded. He imagined as much. "Is Ponyboy with Steve, then?"

Two-Bit nodded, eyes downcast at his hands. "He was still sleeping when we left."

Darry snorted softly. "I bet Pone is loving that." He glanced at Two-Bit, noticing how his friend wouldn't look him in the eye. "Hey Two?"

Two-Bit looked up, eyes starting to overflow with tears.

Darry swallowed hard. "You okay?" he asked carefully, alarmed by his usually happy-go-lucky friend's current demeanor.

"Yeah," Two-Bit said quickly, swiping at his eyes and looking back up.

Darry's frown deepened. "Why am I having a hard time buyin' that?"

Two-Bit sighed. "I just…" – he took a deep breath – "When are we gonna catch a break, Dar? It ain't fair. It's like we're cursed or something. And I hate seein' everybody so down and not bein' able to fix it."

Darry's felt his heart sink at Two-Bit's words. He knew that Two-Bit couldn't stand tension or when things got too real. That's why he was always wise-cracking and telling jokes. And Darry had always been thankful for that. Two-Bit was a master at making the gang laugh and, in all honesty, he was the main reason they'd gotten through such difficult times.

But right now, they were at the end of their rope.

All of them.

Even Two-Bit.

"I keep tellin' myself it's gonna get easier," Two-Bit went on, voice thick with emotion. "B-But it never does." He sniffed, trying to hold back sobs that were wracking in his chest. "I miss them, Dar. I miss them all so much."

Darry stood up and crossed the short distance to the couch, desperate to comfort his friend. He sat down beside him, tears threatening to spill from his own eyes. "C'mere," he said gruffly, pulling Two-Bit towards him.

Two-Bit gave in, going limp against Darry while being held in an embrace. He was crying and trembling and Darry didn't know what to say.

"I miss them, too," was all he managed to come up with.

He didn't say anything else for a long while. Just sat there with his friend, rubbing his back and rocking him gently. Without Two-Bit saying a word, he could hear his friend's fears loud and clear.  _What if we lose Steve too?_

He hated that this was what they'd been reduced to. Too much suffering. Too much pain. Too much trepidation.

Darry had always regarded Two-Bit as his closest friend in the gang. He was the closest in age and believe it or not, Darry was able to have mature conversations with him. Two-Bit was more mature than he let on, and Darry was one of the only people on the planet that knew it.

That was why, when Mr. and Mrs. Curtis passed away, Darry felt like he could open up to Two-Bit. If he needed a shoulder to cry on, Two-Bit was that shoulder.

But right now, the roles were reversed. The only time Darry had seen Two-Bit more upset was after Ponyboy collapsed at the park and he came around, blubbering about how it was all his fault that Pony was sick. He'd had a lot to drink that night and couldn't control his onslaught of emotions.

"You ain't been drinkin', have you Two-Bit?" Darry asked softly, chin resting on his friend's sweat-damp head. It wasn't an accusation.

Two-Bit shook his head against Darry's shoulder. "Been tryin' to cut back. You know that." He let out a wet chuckle and pulled away from Darry's embrace. "Hell of a time to try and sober up, huh?"

Darry's lips curled slightly at Two-Bit's weak attempt at humor. "You're doin' great, man," he said sincerely. "I'm real proud of you."

"Thanks," Two-Bit acknowledged, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He glanced down at his wristwatch. "I guess I ought to get back to the hospital, huh? Save Ponyboy from his misery?"

Darry shook his head, heart still aching for his friend. "Two-Bit, if you're not up for it tonight, I can go…"

Two-Bit rolled his red-rimmed eyes. "Don't be stupid, Curtis. You stayed last night. Besides, I think Soda might need you right now."

Darry sighed. He was probably right. "But…"

"Moment of weakness, Darry," Two-Bit interrupted, straightening his posture as if to prove his point. "I'm okay now. Really."

Darry studied his face for a long while before caving. "All right," he said, standing up. "Let me go check on Soda and then I'll drive you over. That way Pony won't have to take the bus."

Darry had never liked Ponyboy walking or taking public transit on his own. And now that Ron, a kid his age, had recently been jumped… he was even more against it now.

* * *

At the hospital, before they stepped into Steve's room, Darry held Two-Bit back. There was something else he needed to say.

"You said earlier that you keep tellin' yourself it's gonna get easier," Darry said, looking Two-Bit right in the eyes. "You need to keep believing that, man. We all do. Because it  _will_. I promise. With everything I have, I promise you that."

As Darry was saying those words, he realized that he meant them. He believed them with his heart and soul. Because it  _had_ to get easier. It  _had_  to get better. How could it get any worse?

_Don't go there_ , the little voice in his head warned.

Two-Bit looked up at him, a single tear slipping down his cheek. "You're incredible, you know that?" he asked, pure reverence etched into his features.

If Darry thought he could speak over the lump in his throat, he would have reciprocated. Instead, he patted Two-Bit on the shoulder, hoping he felt the meaning behind it.

And together they stepped into their sick friend's room.


	20. Chapter 20

"Soda, you awake?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Come eat."

"Not hungry."

"Come sit at the table with us then."

Soda let out an audible sigh and dragged his achy bones out of bed. He followed Darry out to the kitchen and sat down heavily across from his other brother at the table. "Hey Pony," he greeted hoarsely.

"Hey Soda!" Ponyboy returned brightly. "How're you feelin'?"

Soda couldn't help the eye roll. "I'm fine." To completely contradict his point, he sneezed.

Stupid cold.

Darry palmed a hand on Soda's forehead on his way to the stove. He made a noise of disapproval in the back of his throat. "Yeah, tell that to your lack of appetite and the fever you're runnin'."

Soda didn't bother explaining to Darry that his lack of appetite had nothing to do with being sick. It wasn't worth the energy. "I ain't runnin' a fever," he said instead, folding his arms across his chest.

Darry raised his eyebrows. "You willin' to put money on that, little buddy?" he asked, and then produced a thermometer out of thin air. "Go on, then. Prove it."

He handed the thermometer over and Soda took it reluctantly. He rolled his eyes again as he stuck it under his tongue and sulked lower in his seat.

"Careful, Soda," Darry warned, tongue-in-cheek. "You roll your eyes any further and they'll get stuck back there."

Ponyboy chuckled but then shot an apologetic look Soda's way. "Aw, Darry, go easy on him," he said, composing himself. His voice turned gentle. Serious. "He's upset about leavin' Steve."

Darry stopped stirring the tomato soup he was heating up and set the spoon down on the counter. He let out a deep breath, his back turned on his brothers. "Yeah, I know he is," he said softly, bowing his head. "Pone, why don't you tell Soda about what happened after Two-Bit brought him home. Catch him up to speed."

"Did 'ou tell St've 'bout 'is Uncle G'ry?" Soda asked around the thermometer.

"Yeah, I did," Ponyboy answered. "It really lifted his spirits, Soda."

"Gerry's going to visit Steve tomorrow morning," Darry added. "I called him up when we got home. Steve is really looking forward to seeing him."

They remained quiet for a while, until Soda was itching to ask another question. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he remembered he had the thermometer.

Ponyboy noticed. "Here, let me see that," he said, reaching to pull the device out of his brother's mouth.

"What's it say, Pone?" Darry inquired.

Ponyboy squinted to get the reading. "Looks like… 100.8," he answered.

Darry brought the pot of tomato soup from the stove over to the table. "See?" he said pointedly. "Fever."

Soda pouted. "Barely," he mumbled.

"Are we sure this is just a cold?" Ponyboy asked, looking critically at Soda. "Isn't it weird to run fevers in the summer?"

The kid seemed to forget he'd been delirious with fever not two months ago.

"You can get a cold any time of the year, kiddo. Especially if you haven't been sleeping properly," Darry said. "And this kid is guilty of that." He ruffled Soda's hair and squeezed his shoulders gently.

Soda decided to switch the focus back to Steve. "How's Steve otherwise?" he asked, wiping his dripping nose on his sleeve. "Was he doin' okay?"

Darry and Ponyboy exchanged a look and Soda could tell they were silently trying to decide how much to tell him.

Darry sighed. "He's tired," he said honestly. "The operation took a lot out of him and he's still feeling pretty lousy."

"They haven't been able to get his fever down," Ponyboy added. "He's been running high at 102 or 103 all day. The only good news is that it doesn't seem to be getting any higher."

"Is he in a lot of pain?" Soda asked worriedly.

Darry bit down on his lip and remained silent, which was answer enough.

Soda closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He shouldn't have asked a question he knew he wouldn't like the answer to. If he wasn't careful, he was going to start crying again.

"Don't get worked up, Pepsi-Cola," Darry murmured in his ear. "Won't do anybody any good."

Soda could read between the lines of what Darry was saying.  _Don't have another panic attack on me, little buddy. I don't know if I can handle seeing you like that._

Soda ran his hands through his hair. "I know," he said shakily, trying to steady his breaths. "M'sorry."

Darry rubbed his back gently before serving Ponyboy the tomato soup to go along with the grilled cheese sandwiches he'd made. "Do you want to try some soup, Soda?" he asked hopefully.

Soda wiped his eyes on his sleeve and sniffed. "I told you I ain't hungry."

Darry put some soup in his bowl anyway. "I just want you to try, okay?" he pleaded when Soda was about to protest. "You need to take some Tylenol to shake that fever, and I don't want you takin' it on an empty stomach."

Soda coughed wetly into the crevice of his elbow and then sighed. "Fine," he relented. He was feeling kind of shivery so hot soup might not be a bad idea after all.

The boys ate their meal in silence.

An uncommon occurrence in the Curtis household.

* * *

Adhering to Darry's orders, Soda had gone back to bed following dinner. After taking the Tylenol and drinking plenty of fluids (once again, Darry's orders), he promptly fell asleep.

He woke up around 9:00 pm to use the restroom. Ponyboy wasn't in the bed next to him, so Soda figured he was still awake. Quietly, Soda made his way into the hallway and into the bathroom to go about his business. As he was returning to his bedroom, he heard voices coming from the TV room.

_"It's gonna be okay, Pony."_

Sodapop stopped in his tracks. It sounded like Darry was consoling a distressed Ponyboy. Soda pressed against the wall so he could hear better.

_"Never thought I'd see the day you'd get worked up over Steve Randle."_

Ponyboy huffed a wet laugh.  _"I ain't worked up over Steve Randle,"_ he claimed.  _"I'm worked up over what he said. It really sounded like he wanted to give up, Dar."_

Soda's knees felt weak. So  _that's_  what they were keeping from him at dinner.

_"But he perked up after you told him about his Uncle Gerry, right?"_

_"Well, yeah,"_  Ponyboy said slowly. " _But what if this 'Gerry' isn't all he's cracked up to be? I mean, c'mon Darry, you said it yourself: 'He's too good to be true.'"_

 _"Almost,"_  Darry amended.  _"He's almost too good to be true."_

Ponyboy sniffed.

 _"Listen, Pony,"_ Darry said gently." _I know it's hard seeing Steve so sick. And I know it's hard seeing Soda so upset by it. He's usually tag-teaming with Two-Bit, goofin' off and makin' everybody laugh, isn't he?"_

 _"Yeah."_ Another sniff.  _"I ain't used to seein' him like this."_ There was a pause.  _"Remember when he put on that guy's press hat and mimicked the reporters when they were questioning me at the hospital? After the fire. Do you remember?"_

Darry chuckled.  _"Yeah, kid, I remember. He also tried to lift that policeman's gun."_

Pony giggled.  _"Yeah. And he got caught."_

Soda was surprised when he felt a smile creeping onto his lips from the memory.

 _"I want that Soda back,"_ Ponyboy murmured as an afterthought.

Soda felt like he'd been punched in the gut at his brother's words. Had he really changed that much? He didn't realize that the front he'd been putting on was having such an effect on his youngest brother.

 _"He might be down in the dumps, but he's still the same Soda_ ," Darry reasoned.  _"I think everything has just finally caught up to him."_

 _"Yeah,"_ Ponyboy agreed solemnly.  _"It just… he's always the one cheering everybody up."_ Ponyboy was quiet for moment.  _"I guess it's our turn now, huh Darry?"_

_"You bet, kiddo. C'mere."_

Soda imagined Darry must've pulled Ponyboy in for a hug. He heard Darry mumble something about getting to bed, and figured he'd eavesdropped enough. He returned to his bedroom quickly, not wanting his brothers to know he'd been listening in on their conversation.

Before Soda fell back asleep, he made a promise to himself. A promise to get Ponyboy his brother back: a promise to get back to his old self.

He promised to smile more, laugh more, goof around more…

No matter how badly it hurt.

_I promise._


	21. Chapter 21

When Ponyboy and Darry arrived at the hospital the following morning, Two-Bit was fast asleep in the armchair by Steve's bed. Steve was also asleep; a nurse was tending to him, washing him down with a cool cloth.

She greeted them warmly, but had some bad news. "It's been a rough night," she told them softly. "Steve is very restless and he's not very lucid. We were able to get his temperature down to 102, but we haven't been able to lower it any further than that."

Darry let out a heavy sigh. "Has he eaten?"

The nurse echoed his sigh. "We've tried, hon. He keeps refusing."

Darry slung an arm around Ponyboy's shoulders. Ponyboy had a feeling Darry was making parallels between Steve's condition and two months prior when Ponyboy had been so ill. He knew he'd given his brothers – and the rest of the gang – quite a scare. Just like Steve was doing now.

The nurse smiled sadly at them. "Your friend there" – she nodded at Two-Bit – "he needs to go home and get some rest. I think he needs a break from this place." She finished washing Steve and then set the cloth in the basin on the table beside the bed. "In fact, I think you all need a break from this place. I know who you lot are, you know."

"You do?" Darry asked.

The nurse nodded. "You're friends of that boy. The one who was burned in that church fire. The one who passed away."

Ponyboy felt his insides turn to ice. Johnny.

"Yeah," he confirmed softly. Darry pulled him closer.

"I was one of Johnny's nurses," she lamented. "He was such a sweet boy. Shame what happened to him." She glanced at Ponyboy. "You helped saved those kids too, didn't you?"

Ponyboy nodded shyly.

The nurse smiled sweetly. "I thought I recognized you from the paper. Your hair's not as blond as it was in the picture, though."

Ponyboy's cheeks reddened. His bleached hair was starting to fade and the brown was growing back in its place, much to his relief. He'd hated that dreadful blond. "I guess s'not."

"There was another boy," the nurse went on. "He was a little rough around the edges, but he helped save those kids too. I heard he died as well."

Ponyboy closed his eyes, wishing the nurse would stop talking. His knees felt weak as memories of two months prior came washing back over him like a wave. He turned his head into Darry's shoulder and Darry tightened his grip around him.

"Miss?" Darry said, giving Ponyboy a gentle squeeze. "If you don't mind, we'd rather not talk about all that."

Now it was the nurse's turn to feel embarrassed. "Oh my goodness," she breathed, a hand flying up to palm her forehead. "Of course, dear. You'll have to forgive me. Sometimes I just talk and talk without thinking about the consequences. I'm truly sorry if I've upset you."

"It's all right," Darry said quickly, hearing that the apology was genuine. "Really, don't sweat it."

Ponyboy looked back up to see the nurse smile and nod gratefully. "I've got to go tend to another patient," she said, making her way over to the sink to wash her hands. "Promise me you'll take a break today. Get some fresh air in you. Hospitals are too sad to stay cooped up in them all day."

"We promise," Darry acknowledged as the nurse exited the room. He led Ponyboy over to a folding chair and told him to sit. Ponyboy obeyed, grateful for his brother.

"You okay, Pone?" Darry asked lowly, crouching down in front of him.

Ponyboy nodded, even though he wasn't. He didn't feel like he was on an emotional rollercoaster; he felt like he'd been hit by one. He didn't know if he wanted to scream or cry or both.

But he couldn't. He remembered what he had Darry had discussed the night before: it was their turn to be the strong ones, and that meant that Ponyboy couldn't let sorrow and grief get in the way. He couldn't let himself feel so much. He had to change.

Darry squeezed his knee. "Take some deep breaths, okay kid? And sit tight. I'm going to wake Two-Bit up."

Ponyboy nodded because he didn't trust himself to speak. He did as he was told, knowing that "deep breaths" was Darry's way of telling him to clear his mind; to go back to forgetting.

He watched as Darry gently roused Two-Bit from his doze. "Mathews? Wake up for me, man."

Two-Bit opened his bleary eyes. "Hey, Curtis," he mumbled sleepily, sitting up and rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. "When'd you guys get here?"

"Couple of minutes ago," Darry answered. "How'd it go last night?"

Two-Bit yawned. "It was rough, man. We couldn't get him comfortable and his fever was so high that it was makin' him confused. Once we got it down, he was able to fall asleep, but he was still restless."

As if to prove Two-Bit's point, Steve moaned in his sleep and he shifted slightly in the bed. Instinctively, Two-Bit reached out to grab his hand, rubbing a soothing thumb against his skin. But Steve just moaned again and turned his head the other way.

Two-Bit let go and shrugged helplessly. "I think you guys are in for a long day," he sighed. "Is his uncle planning on stopping by?"

Darry looked down at his watch. "Yeah, he should be here within the next hour or so."

"Wish I could stay and meet him," Two-Bit said. "But you probably want me to head back to your place to check on Soda, huh?"

Darry nodded. "Yeah. Although he's doing better. He wasn't running a fever this morning. He'd probably be okay on his own for a while if you want to hang around."

Two-Bit stretched and stood up. "Nah. I'm gettin' cabin fever," he said. "I'm sure I'll meet Gerry some other time."

"Yeah, probably," Darry agreed.

Two-Bit gathered his belongings and took off shortly after, tapping Ponyboy, good-naturedly, on the back of the head on his way out.

* * *

Gerry Randle truly  _was_  almost too good to be true.

He arrived at the hospital shortly after Two-Bit had gone, clad in a business suit and tie. He was stopping by on his way to interview for a teaching position at the University of Tulsa, so he was dressed sharp.

Ponyboy could tell from just one look at him that he was one smooth dude. If it hadn't been for the uncanny facial resemblance, Ponyboy never would have believed he was related to Steve's father.

Both he and Darry stood up to greet the visitor, shaking his hand firmly. Ponyboy made sure to make eye contact even though he was intimidated by the man.

"Ponyboy Curtis," he introduced himself when prompted.

"Nice to meet you, champ. I'm Gerry Randle, Steve's uncle."

"I'm afraid you didn't come at the best time," Darry said, leading Gerry over to the seat by Steve's bed. "He had a rough night and this morning ain't much better."

Steve's leg was squirming as they spoke, accompanied by moans and grimaces of pain.

"He's restless, huh?" Gerry breathed, sinking into the chair and taking in the sight of the boy he hadn't seen in over ten years.

"Yeah. We've tried everything to make him comfortable… nothing is working."

Gerry smiled sadly as he took his nephew's hand in his. Darry stepped back and pulled up a chair next to Ponyboy, giving Gerry the illusion of privacy with Steve.

Ponyboy went back to sketching. He was still working on that picture of a wolf. He'd been trying to get the shading just right.

Darry watched him, seemingly taking interest in Ponyboy's drawing for the first time.

But it was just a show. For both of them.

What they were  _really_  doing was listening to Gerry as he talked quietly to Steve.

"This wasn't exactly how I pictured our reunion, kiddo," the man said lowly, reaching up to brush Steve's hair off of his fevered brow. "You've gotten big, squirt."

Steve's legs kicked and he wriggled away from Gerry's voice. He let out a low keening noise that made the hair on the back of Ponyboy's neck stick up.

"Shh," Gerry whispered calmly. He lowered his hand to rub Steve's sternum, making soft, counter-clockwise circles. "You always were a fussy kid, you know that?"

And then Gerry did a funny thing. He started to hum a melody.

Ponyboy recognized the song almost immediately. It was Glenn Miller's  _Elmer's Tune_. Gerry hummed the entire intro so naturally that Ponyboy was in awe of the man. And then, sure enough, quietly and delicately he began to sing:

_Why are the stars always winkin' and blinkin' above?_ _  
_ _What makes a fellow start thinkin' of fallin' in love?_ _  
_ _It's not the season, the reason is plain as the moon_ _  
_ _It's just *Stevie's* tune_

As he sang, Steve gradually became calmer. Gerry took his time singing the song in its entirety, replacing all the "Elmers" with "Stevies."

Ponyboy and Darry exchanged a look while all of this was going on. They'd been trying so hard to settle Steve down that morning, and this man  _–_ who Steve hadn't seen in an entire  _decade_  – was able to do it in less than five minutes.

Steve was completely quiet and still by the time Gerry let his voice fade out. When Gerry was finished with the song, he looked up with unshed tears in his eyes but a sense of triumph on his face.

Ponyboy just raised his eyebrows.

Gerry let out a quiet chuckle. "I used to sing that song to him when he was a baby," he explained, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back. "Works like charm, doesn't it?"


	22. Chapter 22

"Darry."

At the sound of his name, Darry snapped into attention. That was the first time Steve had called for him since they'd arrived that morning. He hadn't been lucid enough and had mostly been asking for Sodapop, despite his absence.

Gerry thought he'd meant the drink – which had provided some comic relief in the face of Steve's suffering – until it was explained to him that Soda was, in fact, a person.

Gerry had since left for his interview, but he'd kept Steve calm while he was there.

Darry scooted his chair closer to the side of Steve's bed. "Hey, you're awake," he said. "You okay?"

Steve was lying on his side, facing Darry. He'd kicked his covers off his body in his sleep. He looked up with glassy eyes. "Don't feel good."

"I know, man." Darry reached his arm out to push Steve's hair out of his face. "God, you're still burning up."

Steve closed his eyes, and when he did, a tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

It broke Darry's heart seeing him like this.

"Steve, can you tell me where you are?" he asked trying to gage his friend's awareness.

"H'sp'tl," Steve croaked in response.

"Good, man. That's good." He hadn't been able to tell them that the last time he'd woken up. "Do you want to sit up?"

Steve didn't seem to register the question. "M'hot," he mumbled, pawing at his hospital gown. "Hurts."

Darry frowned. He made eye-contact with Ponyboy across the room and he shrugged. "What hurts, Steve?"

Steve let out a frustrated groan and tugged on his gown again.

"I think he wants to take off his gown," Ponyboy voiced Darry's thoughts as he stood up. "Here, I'll help you."

Together they got Steve into a seated position, being wary of his recently operated-on abdomen. He blinked wildly at his change in equilibrium.

"How you doin', Steve? You okay?" Darry asked, holding tightly onto Steve's shoulder so he wouldn't topple over.

Steve didn't answer him, but his eyes became more focused as he got his bearings.

"Darry, look." Ponyboy was pointing at Steve's exposed hands and wrists. They were swollen and covered in red splotches.

Darry swallowed hard. He didn't like the looks of that. He started unbuttoning Steve's gown and carefully pulled it off his shoulders. It unveiled what he had been afraid of.

Steve's lower back was covered in the same splotches Ponyboy had pointed out. His front was covered too.

Hives, Darry realized.

 _Covered_.

"Oh my god," Ponyboy breathed beside him. "No wonder he woke up. He must be so uncomfortable."

"No kiddin'," Darry agreed. "Go get a nurse, will you?"

Ponyboy nodded obediently and hurried out of the room.

Steve shivered violently as the air connected with his irritated and newly exposed skin. "Darry…" he moaned.

And Darry had to close his eyes and take a minute to compose himself. Because Steve Randle wasn't supposed to sound like that – so desperate and _vulnerable._

"It's okay, man," he said, doing his best to reassure his ailing friend. "You've just developed a little rash."

"I-I don't feel good."

Darry wished he'd stop saying that.

He reached up to squeeze the back of Steve's neck gently. It was one of the few areas that wasn't covered in hives. He could feel Steve's body hitch as he started to cry.

"Settle down, Steve," Darry coached, continuing to massage Steve's neck and upper back. "A nurse will be in here soon to get you sorted out."

But Steve just sniffed and started crying harder.

Darry shushed him and continued to speak in what he hoped were soothing tones until a nurse arrived. Ponyboy followed closely behind.

"Oh dear!" the nurse exclaimed when she laid eyes on her patient.

"He's miserable," Darry heard himself saying, a frantic edge to his voice. "You have to do something."

Unfortunately, the nurse couldn't do much but offer Steve a cool-water sponge bath. And when that didn't seem to relieve any of his discomfort, they had to resort to cold compresses and damp cloths.

The nurse wasn't entirely sure what had brought the hives on. She said it was probably a mixture of things: Steve's body reacting to the prolonged fever, stress, being in bed without being able to move around much…

The cold compresses seemed to help more than the sponge bath had, and they also seemed to help lower Steve's fever considerably. But he still had tears slipping down his cheeks, he still wiggled from the itching, burning sensation of the hives, and he still wasn't very lucid or focused.

Darry ended up sitting on the bed with him because it was the only way to calm him down even a little. Ponyboy sat in the chair beside the bed, and read them his summer reading book while Steve continued to whimper and groan from his ailments.

There was a nervous edge in Ponyboy's voice as he read, and Darry knew that seeing Steve so sick was taking an emotional toll on him.

Every once in a while, Steve would fall in and out of sleep for a few minutes, his head pressed up against Darry's shoulder. But it never lasted. He was just too sick.

Darry asked the nurse if there was something they could give Steve to knock him out or take the pain away. But she shook his head.

Since he'd had his appendix out only yesterday, she was afraid that giving him additional sedatives would negatively affect his respiratory and cardiac systems. Steve had as much medication that could be safely given to him.

He was finally able to fall into a deep sleep after about three hours of constant suffering. It came as a great relief to Darry and Ponyboy.

"How're his hives looking?" Ponyboy asked quietly, setting his book down.

"They're startin' to clear up," Darry answered. He dipped one of the cloths in the basin filled with cool water, and reapplied it to Steve's chest.

Steve sighed gratefully in his sleep.

Ponyboy chuckled. "That was a good sound," he commented.

Darry nodded. "Yeah, it was," he agreed.

Ponyboy yawned theatrically and then stood up. "I, uh, I think I'm gonna go call Sodapop," he said. "Give him the update."

Darry nodded his approval. "Hey, if you want Two-Bit to come pick you up, that's okay," he told his brother. "You don't have to stay here."

He hated that Ponyboy was spending his summer vacation in a hospital. When Darry was fourteen, he spent his summers playing football and chasing girls.

Ponyboy shrugged. "I don't mind." He smiled. "I got some of my summer reading done."

Darry laughed. "Yeah, and you sucked me into that monstrosity of a novel. You know, I was already put through the torture of reading _Great Expectations_ when _I_ went to school."

Ponyboy laughed. "Aw, c'mon, Dar. It ain't so bad."

Darry scoffed. " _Literally_ _nothing_ happens in that book."

"It's a classic!"

"A classic bore, that's for sure." Darry was just teasing the kid. It felt good, exchanging some playful banter during this tense time. He nodded toward the hallway. "Go call your brother."

Ponyboy smirked and headed out the door.

Darry sighed and ran his hand through Steve's hair.

What a life they lived.


	23. Chapter 23

"Hey, Pone."

_"You sound better_."

"Yeah?"

" _Yeah. How're you feelin'?"_

Sodapop sighed. The truth was, he wasn't doing too well. Not because of his minor cold – though that wasn't exactly helping matters – but because he couldn't be near his ailing best friend. He felt like he could break into a million pieces at any given moment.

"I'm feeling _fine_ , Ponyboy," he said, bending the truth a little. "It's just a dumb cold, remember? The important question is how is _Steve_ feeling?"

After much anticipation, Ponyboy had finally called with news on Steve. Soda had spent the day staring aimlessly at the TV and eyeing the phone.

Ponyboy let out a deep breath. _"He's, uh, he's doin' all right, I guess,"_ he answered vaguely.

"He eating?"

_"…No."_

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

There was a long pause. " _He's sort of out of it today, Soda."_

Soda felt tears start to prick his eyes. "Ponyboy," he warned softly. "Be straight with me."

Ponyboy hesitated again before speaking. " _He's been asleep most of the time, but he's restless. He completely missed his Uncle Gerry's visit. And, uh, he broke out in some hives, so he's pretty miserable right now. But they're startin' to clear up. He's been asking for you."_

Soda swallowed hard at this news. "How's his temp?"

_"High. Wavering between 102 and 103."_

Soda felt like crying. But he knew he couldn't in front of his brother. Not after what he'd overheard last night. He'd made a promise to himself – a promise to get Ponyboy his old brother back.

_"…Soda?"_

"Yeah, m'here."

" _He's gonna be okay. You know that, right?"_

No, he didn't know that.

He was pretty sure his mind wouldn't be at ease until Steve was back with them.

Home.

Soda cleared his throat and tried not to think of his best friend's suffering. "Tell me about Gerry."

That sent Ponyboy off. " _Oh my gosh, Soda, he's so cool! You listen to this guy talk for five minutes and you'll be blown away. I mean it – they should make his life into a movie or somethin'. He's real tuff. I can't believe he's a Randle. He can speak three different languages…."_

He went on and on about Steve's uncle, but Soda wasn't really listening. His vision was starting to swim in front of his eyes with overflowing tears.

His head felt all fogged up.

"Hey, Ponyboy?" he interrupted softly, doing his best to keep his voice steady.

" _Yeah?"_

"I, um… I don't really feel like talking anymore."

_"Oh… Are you okay?"_

"Yeah, m'fine. Just a little tired."

Ponyboy didn't sound too sure. _"Okay,"_ he said slowly. _"Is Two-Bit still there_?"

Soda sniffed. "No, he left to go have lunch with his mom and sister. His mom called earlier to complain about how little she's seen of him lately. He didn't want to leave but I made him go. Convinced him I was okay."

" _And are you? Really?"_

"Yeah, m'fine."

Soda knew he wasn't a convincing liar, so he wasn't surprised when Ponyboy said: _"I dunno… Your voice sounds funny. Maybe I should come home."_

"No, don't," Soda said, too quickly. He cleared his throat, coughed a little. "Uh, Steve needs you. Stay with him."

_"I think you need me more,"_ Ponyboy returned firmly. _"I'm coming home. I'll see you soon."_

The line clicked dead.

Soda sighed heavily and hung up the receiver. He ran his hands through his hair. He couldn't be here when Ponyboy came home because he was fairly certain he was about to have an emotional breakdown. He could feel sobs building in his chest.

He had to get out.

Fortunately, he was still thinking clearly enough to leave a note for Ponyboy so the kid wouldn't freak when he came home to an empty house.

_Went for a walk. Don't worry. I'm fine. – Soda_

He taped it to the screen door and got the hell out of dodge.

* * *

Sodapop went to the park which, in hindsight, might not have been the best idea.

He took a seat on a bench facing that blasted fountain. He was awfully tired.

He didn't know why he had ended up here. He'd just let his feet carry him.

So much had happened in this park in his lifetime. Picnics with the family, spontaneous football games, more hookups than he could count…

Those were the good things.

But lately, Soda could only focus on the bad. The near drowning of Ponyboy, the stabbing of the Soc, that damn rumble that hadn't solved a single thing….

Soda wished he'd swiped a pack of Pony's cigarettes because he could really go for a cancer stick right now.

At first, he tried to stifle the sobs wracking in his chest, but after a while, he realized the park was deserted. He figured the intense summer heat was keeping people away. In fact, he vaguely remembered the news issuing a warning to stay indoors and close to a fan if possible.

Too late.

It was strange, but Soda didn't feel hot.

Right now, he felt cold.

Empty.

Perhaps bawling his eyes out would help him warm up.

Soda hadn't cried like this in a long time – hadn't _completely_ let loose like this in maybe ever. His heart was thumping erratically in his chest, snot was streaming from his nose, his arms were shaking from holding the weight of his head. It was loud, and it was forceful, and it was _messy_.

All the anguish he'd kept inside for upwards of a year had finally escaped.

And it felt _good_.

It felt good to let it all go.

He lost track of time, but by the time his sobs were reduced to pitiful, hiccupping gasps, the sun had moved considerably in the sky.

He allowed himself to steady his breaths and collect himself before standing up to head home.

Once he stood, it was as if all feeling came back to him.

He could now feel the overwhelming heat from the sun; his legs were wobbly and unsteady; his head pounded from the exertion of crying.

The little food he'd eaten churned sourly in his gut.

Soda bent forward to brace his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths to swallow back his sudden nausea. When it settled some, he began his slow walk home.

* * *

As he was approaching the Dairy Queen, he realized it was taking a lot of effort to put one foot in front of the other. His vision had started to go gray around the edges.

He really needed to sit down.

Now.

He thought about trying to make it the 15 remaining yards to the Dairy Queen so he could ask for some water, but vertigo got the better of him and he took a seat on the curb instead. He was grateful for the shade from the buildings behind him.

He felt so woozy he could barely keep himself upright. He kept listing sideways and the movement made his stomach roll.

The moment the door to the Dairy Queen opened behind him was the moment Soda's body decided to expel its stomach contents.

_Of course_ , he thought miserably to himself as he heaved again. _Just don't let it be pretty girls._

Luck didn't appear to be on his side.

"Oh my gosh, ew," he heard a female voice say.

"He's sick, Dolly!" another voice admonished, and Sodapop could've sworn he'd heard her voice before. "Don't be so rude." And then: "Oh my gosh, that's Sodapop Curtis."

_Even worse_ , Soda thought. It was someone who recognized him.

He heard footsteps quickly approaching and then he felt a gentle hand on his back.

"Dolly, go get him some water, would ya sis?"

Soda choked up some more bile, which prompted the familiar voice to pat his back and say: "Take it easy, Slick, you're all right."

Soda groaned, partly because he was feeling so miserable and partly because he'd identified the voice.

Evie Daniels.

Steve's ex-girlfriend.

It was the "Slick" that gave it away.

He spat the remaining saliva in the street and blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his vision. "Evie?" he mumbled, looking for confirmation.

"The one and only," she said, rubbing his back a little.

And Soda was torn because he didn't want anything to do with the girl who'd broken his best friend's heart, but at the same time her presence felt so welcoming and warm and _familiar_ that Soda didn't shrug away from her touch.

"Here, Evie." Dolly had returned with the water.

"Soda?" Evie reached up to push the hair out of his eyes. "Do you think you can drink some of this for me?"

She brought the straw up to his lips and Soda drank the water greedily. It felt so good on his raw throat.

"Slowly, hon," Evie coached.

It was amazing how quickly the water seemed to help. Soda's vision became a little clearer and the woozy feeling started to subside. He let out a moan of relief.

"Hangovers are a bitch, huh?" Dolly asked from a couple feet, backing away from where Soda had gotten sick.

"Soda ain't hungover, Doll," Evie interjected. "He doesn't even drink."

"Oh." Dolly seemed bored by this. "Ev, I have to get to work, you know." She jangled her car keys.

"Yeah, I know. You can go on. I'm gonna stay and walk Soda home."

"You don't have to do that," Soda mumbled softly, once Evie's sister had gone. He looked down at his hands. "I'm okay now."

Evie shook her head sadly. "No you're not, Curtis. And I know there's more to this—" she motioned to Soda's exhausted form –"than simple dehydration." She sighed. "You're upset. You've been crying."

Soda opened his mouth to protest that truth, but Evie squeezed his shoulder to keep him quiet.

"Trust me, I've been doing enough of that myself these past few weeks to know."

That got Soda's attention and he lifted his head to look into Evie's eyes. Even now, they were brimmed with tears, and Soda could see pain and dejection – clear as day – in them.

"Steve?" he asked softly.

She nodded, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. She wiped at her eyes and took in a shuddering breath. "Please, Soda. I know you don't owe me anything. I don't _deserve_ anything. But I need to know that he's okay. That he's happy."

Part of Soda wanted to snap at her. Shake her. Yell at her. Because who makes out with another guy five days after her boyfriend's friends are put to rest? Who does that? _If you truly cared about his happiness, you wouldn't have done what you did_.

But Evie's eyes were so soft and so genuinely concerned that Soda took pity on her. It was painfully obviously that she felt remorse for what she'd done. Her physical appearance was clue enough. She'd lost weight, had dark circles under her eyes, her posture was haggard...

"Oh, Evie…" Soda sighed, looking away from her desperately hopeful eyes. "There's something you should know..."

**TBC…**


	24. Chapter 24

"Kid, come sit down."

Ponyboy tore his eyes away from the front door to look at Two-Bit who was lounging on the couch, but his feet didn't stop pacing.

"You're gonna burn a hole through the carpet."

That got Ponyboy's feet to come to a halt.

"I think we should go looking for him."

Two-Bit let out an exasperated sigh and started tossing a tennis ball lightly at the ceiling. "Soda's a big boy, Pone. I think he can handle his own."

Ponyboy ran his hands through his hair. "He's been gone for two hours!"

Two-Bit snatched the ball as it descended and sat up. Any semblance of mock annoyance that he'd had earlier was replaced with concern. "You're really worried about him, huh?"

Ponyboy nodded and he felt tears starting to prick his eyes. "You didn't hear him on the phone."

"He's just worried about Steve, kid. He probably needed to clear his head."

"Yeah," Ponyboy agreed vaguely. "Maybe you're right."

"'Course I'm right, Pony. He even left a note with _explicit_ directions to _not worry_. Which is kind of the opposite of what you're doing right now."

And before Ponyboy could retort to that, he was pelted right in the gut with a tennis ball.

"Ow!" he complained, glaring at his friend.

Two-Bit smirked. "Think fast."

"You're supposed to say that _before_ you throw the ball, genius."

Two-Bit shrugged. "Details." He cackled as he deflected Ponyboy's retaliation throw.

With a sigh, Ponyboy sunk down onto floor next to the front door and leaned up against the wall. Two-Bit lightly tossed him the ball and Ponyboy caught it unenthusiastically.

"Tell you what, kid. If the middleman's not back in 15 minutes, we'll go lookin'. Deal?"

Ponyboy supposed he could live with that. "Deal."

He tossed the ball back to Two-Bit.

* * *

Fortunately for Ponyboy's sanity, Sodapop returned within in the next 15 minutes.

"He's comin' up the drive, kid. And he ain't alone." Two-Bit was able to see straight out the door from where he was sitting.

Ponyboy raised his eyebrows. "He with a girl?"

"Sure, if you want to call her that," Two-Bit growled, his voice tinged with bitterness. "He's with Evie Daniels." He then proceeded to curse to illustrate exactly how he felt about Evie Daniels.

"What?" Ponyboy exclaimed, and immediately jumped up.

Two-Bit stood up too.

Sure enough, Evie Daniels was coming up the drive, her hand behind Soda's back.

Ponyboy couldn't care less about her, though. He was just glad Sodapop was home. He'd been awfully worried.

He flew out the door, letting the screen slam behind him. He met Soda halfway and had him in a bear hug in an instant. Evie barely had time to step out of the way.

Soda chuckled. "Hey, Pone." He pulled away and ruffled his hair. "I thought I told you not to worry about me."

Ponyboy ignored him and held tightly onto his wrist. "Are you okay?" he asked seriously, because his brother did not look well.

Soda averted his eyes from Ponyboy's gaze. "I've been better," he admitted. "I-I just want to go inside, okay?" He nudged Ponyboy back in the direction of the house. As they approached the door, with Evie following behind them, Soda called to Two-Bit, "Mathews? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with your family."

"I picked Pony up from the hospital because he was worried about you," Two-Bit said firmly, like a father reprimanding his son. And it was then that Ponyboy realized he had been worried too. Two-Bit held the door open for them as they went inside, but held his hand up to stop Evie from entering. "You mind telling me what _she_ is doing here?"

He was practically spitting with disgust.

Soda took a seat on the couch and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "She walked me home. Let her inside, will you?"

But Evie backed up. "It's okay, Soda. They don't want me here." She bit down on her lip. Ponyboy noticed her eyes were red. It looked as though she'd been crying. "Just… give Steve my best, okay?"

"Yeah, Evie, sure," Soda said softly. _Genuinely._

"Feel better, okay?" she added. "Get some rest."

She and Soda exchanged an intimate look and Soda gave her a careful nod.

She smiled tearfully, turned on her heel, and then she was gone.

* * *

"All right, Curtis, you have some explaining to do. What were you doing with that… that _wench_?"

Two-Bit was about ready to blow a gasket.

"Two-Bit, stop," Ponyboy pleaded quietly. Evie wasn't what they need to be concerned about right now. He stooped down in front of Soda whose head was hanging limply in his hands. "Are you okay, Soda? Why did Evie tell you to 'feel better?'"

Soda sighed. "I already told you that I'm okay, Pone," he answered tiredly, his voice quiet and dull. "Heat just got to me. I got sick outside of the DQ. Evie was there with her sister. She made sure I was okay. We uh – we talked for a bit and then she walked me home."

"You got sick?" Ponyboy repeated, heart aching for his brother. He slid up so he was sitting beside Soda on the couch and started rubbing his back gently. "Do you feel better now?"

Sodapop nodded. "Yeah, I'm just really tired."

Ponyboy reached up to feel his brother's forehead. His skin was peaked and cool and clammy to the touch. "Two-Bit, will you grab him some water?"

Two-Bit nodded obediently and went to fill up a cup. He also returned with a plate of saltine crackers. "You should try to eat a little somethin' too," he said, handing Soda the plate.

Soda nodded, and under Pony and Two-Bit's watchful eyes, he ate and drank enough to warrant their satisfaction.

"I-I think I'm going to take a shower," he said, standing up. "That okay?"

Ponyboy nodded, but Two-Bit didn't look too sure. "You sure you're up for that?"

Soda nodded. "I just need to cool off."

"Okay. Holler if you need anything."

xxx

As it turns out, Soda _couldn't_ handle taking a shower on his own. He started calling for Ponyboy about five minutes after he'd gotten in. His voice sounded panicked and scared.

Both Ponyboy and Two-Bit bolted into the bathroom. "What, Soda, what is it?" Pony asked frantically. Soda had shut the water off.

"I-I'm dizzy," Soda answered from behind the curtain. He sounded so tired.

Ponyboy was frozen on the spot, but Two-Bit wasted no time springing to action. He pulled the curtain back to reveal Soda leaning heavily against the tiled wall.

"Okay," Two-Bit said calmly, reaching for his friend. "Let's get you out of the shower, huh?"

"N-No," Soda said, panting a little. "Need to sit…"

"Okay," Two-Bit said again. "We'll just sit right here." He grabbed Soda under the armpits and lowered him down to the tub floor. "That's it, nice and easy."

Even sitting, Soda's color was fading fast. Ponyboy felt like crying. His brother was totally on the verge of passing out.

"Ponyboy?" Two-Bit called, and Pony broke out of his daze. "Grab me a towel, will you?"

Ponyboy did as he was told and tossed a fresh towel to his friend.

Two-Bit placed the towel over Soda's lap, covering his exposed body. "You're all right Pepsi-Cola," he whispered, using Soda's rare nickname. "We're just going to cover you up a bit, pal."

Soda just stared at his feet, blinking dazedly. "M'still dizzy," he whimpered.

"Okay, change of plans, then." Two-Bit helped Soda raise his knees and then guided his head so it was resting between them. "Take some breaths, man."

Ponyboy watched in awe, thankful that Two-Bit was so good in high-pressure situations.

"Better now?" Two-Bit asked softly, giving Soda's neck a little squeeze.

"Better now," Soda confirmed shakily. "Sorry."

Ponyboy and Two-Bit let out a synchronized sigh of relief.

"Nothin' to be sorry for," Two-Bit said. "'Cept for bein' the root cause of me an' Pony goin' gray before our time. Right Pone?"

Ponyboy chuckled nervously. "Right."

They decided to let Soda sit for a couple more minutes – to make sure he was really okay – before getting him back to bed.

The three of them sat in silence until Soda spoke.

"You know, she's really sorry."

"Hmm?"

"Evie. She's really sorry for what she did."

Two-Bit scoffed. "Well, she should be. She did just about the shittiest thing she could do. I hope you ain't buyin' into her excuses, Soda."

"She didn't make any excuses," Soda said. He yawned and closed his eyes against the tile wall. "She's just… really sorry."

Ponyboy and Two-Bit exchanged a look. They were silently communicating that Soda didn't deserve any of the cards he'd been dealt. He had too big of a heart.

Two-Bit ran his hand over his face and then patted Soda on the back.

"C'mon, grease. Let's get you back to bed."


	25. Chapter 25

Darry scrubbed a tired hand over his face. He was down in the lobby of the hospital, making good use of the complimentary coffee.

He'd just called home on the payphone, and was greeted with the troubling news that Sodapop had managed to get himself dehydrated – to the point of nearly passing out in the shower. Apparently he'd traveled out in the consuming heat that day, on a near empty stomach. Not to mention he was getting over being sick.

Darry wondered what he ever did to be blessed – or more appropriately, cursed – with _two_ brothers who couldn't use their heads. They were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

Two-Bit had reassured him that everything was under control now – that Soda had been rehydrated and was resting comfortably. He also mentioned that Evie Daniels had been the one to rescue Soda from the heat – that she had walked him home. _"And she looks terrible, Curtis. I mean it. That broad went downhill fast."_

According to Two-Bit, Soda had disclosed to Evie that Steve was very ill and in the hospital. _"So don't be surprised if she shows up unannounced. Soda said the news tore her up pretty bad."_

Darry huffed a sigh. He wouldn't put it past Evie Daniels to make an appearance. _Just what Steve needs_ , he thought sarcastically. _More drama._

Darry stirred some cream and sugar into his coffee, and headed back upstairs.

* * *

Thankfully, Steve's condition had improved considerably since that morning. The nursing staff had finally gotten his temperature under control; he was just running a low-grade fever now. His hives had also cleared up for the most part.

So now, Steve was just drained, not able to stay awake for more than about twenty minutes at a time. When he was awake, the nurse would push food on him and Darry would help with her efforts.

"It'll help you feel better, Steve," he tried. "You need nourishment to get your strength back up."

Steve claimed he was too tired – that the chore of eating was too much.

"I can help you," Darry insisted.

After some relentless coaxing, Steve ended up letting Darry feed him a cup of yogurt and three bites of soup before he pushed him away. His stomach couldn't handle any more.

But it was a start, and for that, Darry was satisfied.

* * *

"You missed your Uncle Gerry come by this morning," Darry told Steve at one point. "He sang to you."

Steve let out a huff of air that Darry thought might have been an attempt at a laugh. "I heard him," Steve said. "I thought I was dreaming."

"You were close with him, weren't you?" Darry asked. "When you were younger."

Steve nodded. "My family fell apart after he left."

Darry felt an overwhelming amount of sadness swell up in his heart at those words. Who knew Steve Randle could break his heart? Darry patted his hand. "Well, he's back now. Maybe he can help piece it back together."

That must've been the wrong thing to say, because Steve's eyes started to fill with tears. "I-I don't know if I want that," he whispered.

Darry understood. Steve had put up with a lot of hell from his family the past ten years, and it would be difficult for them to start over. "Well, the ball's in your court, Steve," Darry told him gently. "You won't have to see them if you don't want to. We have your back, man. We're in your corner."

Steve nodded and swiped at his cheeks where some tears had escaped.

Darry cleared his throat gruffly. You want some water?" he asked hopefully, desperate to change the topic.

Steve licked his dry lips. "Okay," he breathed, slowly pushing himself up into the sitting position.

Darry grabbed the cup of water and helped bring the straw to Steve's mouth. He was pleased when Steve drained the cup.

"Want some more?" Darry asked.

But Steve shook his head. He ran his hands through his hair, and looked around the room. "I'm tired of this place," he croaked, dropping his hands with a thud.

Darry felt a surge of hope shoot through him. "Wanna get out of here?" he asked.

Steve just frowned at him, not understanding.

"Just for a little while," Darry explained. "The nurse said I could take you out into the hallway –s'long as you wear a mask. I can push you in a wheelchair. What do you say?"

Steve didn't look all too thrilled – probably because of the wheelchair – but he agreed.

Darry clapped his hands together. "All right!" he said happily. I'll go get a nurse." He squeezed Steve's shoulder and exited the room.

* * *

"I know it's not much, but at least it's a change in scenery, huh?" Darry asked, as he maneuvered Steve around the wide hallway of the intensive care unit.

"Yeah, it's nice," Steve answered, a little muffled from the disposable medical mask he was wearing.

Darry pushed him over to a big window at the end of the hallway. It faced the city and Steve was able to look out over downtown Tulsa. Steve seemed entranced by it at first – it was actually a decent view because they were on the sixth floor of the hospital and could see the Arkansas River with the city landscape surrounding it.

But then, Darry realized that Steve had closed his eyes and was panting a little. Alarmed, he crouched down so he could see his friend's face. "What's the matter, Steve?" he asked, reaching up to feel his clammy forehead.

"Dizzy," Steve managed, squeezing his eyes closed even tighter. He bent forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Okay, let's head back into the room, huh?"

Steve nodded.

Darry hastily made his way back to the room, being careful not to jostle Steve's wheelchair too much. When they arrived, Darry removed Steve's mask and instructed him to take some slow, deep breaths.

Much to Darry's dismay, however, Steve had started to cry, and his breaths were quick and shuddering. "Hey, hey, hey," Darry said gently, running a hand through Steve's sweat-damp hair. "It was just a little vertigo. You need to calm down, Steve."

Steve hid his face with his hands. "C-Can't."

Darry pulled his hands away from his face. "Yes, you can," he said firmly. "Look at me."

But Steve just shook his head. "I-I'm so fucking worthless," he whispered brokenly.

Darry swallowed hard. "No. No you're not, Steve." He pulled Steve into his shoulder and rubbed his back gently. "Just calm down, brother."

Steve fell silent at the word "brother," no doubt taken aback by it. But it had rolled off Darry's tongue so effortlessly that he realized the truth to it – and he didn't regret it. He really did see Steve as somewhat of a third brother, especially now, after months of living together.

Darry waited patiently while Steve caught his breath.

And then, "Darry?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"I-I think I need to lie down now."

"Okay," Darry said fondly. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

He fetched a nurse, and the two of them transferred Steve back to his bed.


	26. Chapter 26

Much to his relief, Soda was feeling well enough to visit Steve the following morning. Ponyboy stayed back, claiming he needed a break from the hospital, and Soda couldn't blame him.

When Soda arrived, Darry pushed him out into the hall before he had the chance to even catch a glimpse of Steve.

"Is he sleeping?" Soda asked, wondering why Darry wasn't letting him in the room.

"No, a nurse is with him now. Which is why I thought it would be a good time to talk to you. In private."

Soda frowned. "About what? Is Steve okay?"

"Yeah, he is," Darry assured him. "He's doing a lot better than he was yesterday."

Soda jammed his hands in his pockets and nodded. "Pony said he had a rough time."

Darry agreed. "Apparently, so did you," he said sternly. "Sodapop, you've got to take better care of yourself, kid."

Soda hung his head. He knew this reprimand had been coming. "I know, Dar. I'm sorry."

"I know you are. C'mere." Darry slid a hand behind Soda's neck and pulled him into his chest. "I'm glad you're okay now."

"Me too," Soda murmured into his shoulder. "So what do you need to talk to me about?"

Darry bit down on his lip as Soda pulled away. He was wearing an absolute forlorn expression when he said: "The medical staff thinks Steve should see a psychiatrist."

" _What_?" Soda asked, indignant.

Darry softened his voice. "Steve's going through a tough time right now. He's not in the best mental state."

Soda shook his head. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. "He's not some depressed lunatic, Darry!" he said. "He's our _friend_. I'm not going to let some _stranger_ pick his brain and try to tell him he has daddy issues, or whatever."

Darry let out a deep breath. "Soda, Steve _does_ have issues with his father," he said matter-of-factly. "Among other things. It might be good for him to talk to a professional."

"No, Darry, forget it."

"Look, a nurse brought the idea up yesterday, and I think Steve is seriously considering it."

Soda ran his hands through his hair. "Not when I'm through with him," he said firmly. If Steve needed to talk, then he could talk to Soda. He made to storm into the room, but Darry caught his arm.

"Soda, you're being irrational," Darry said, his voice calm, but his grip as strong as ever. "Do you really think I'd be on board with this if I thought Steve didn't need it? The way he's been talking these past few days, man… it'd break your heart."

That got Soda's attention. "What's he been saying?"

Darry hesitated. "That he feels worthless," he lamented. "That he wants to give up."

Soda felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He'd had his concerns about Steve wanting to get better, but he never thought he'd voice it. "He said that to you?" he breathed.

Darry let go of Soda's arm and nodded. "And to Ponyboy."

Soda closed his eyes. He suddenly didn't feel well. At all.

He felt Darry tenderly cup his cheek. "You all right?" he asked.

Soda reopened his eyes. "I'm fine," he said feebly. "Let's just go inside."

Darry slung an arm around his shoulders, and they did just that.

* * *

The nurse was coming out of the room as the were going in. "Temperature's down," she reported. "His vitals look good."

While that all sounded good, Soda was still struggling to wrap his mind around what Darry had disclosed to him in the hallway.

Steve noticed. "What's wrong?" he asked, after they'd exchanged hellos.

Soda wanted to brush it off and say, _nothing, I'm fine._ But what came out instead was: "Do you really feel worthless?"

Steve pushed against his matress with wobbly arms so he was in a more upright position. His eyes flicked to Darry. "You told him?" He didn't sound angry; he was just seeking confirmation.

Darry nodded. "Yeah. And I'm going to let you two talk it out while I go grab a bite to eat in the cafeteria." He squeezed Soda's shoulder gently and retreated from the room.

Soda lingered by the doorway. Steve ran his hands through his sweat-damp hair and beckoned Soda to come sit down.

Soda crossed the room and sunk into the chair by Steve's bed. "I didn't know it was this bad," he croaked, his voice ostensibly broken. "I need you to be okay."

When Steve didn't say anything, Soda added: "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Steve sniffed and nodded, looking down at his hands.

"You are not worthless, Steve. How could you think that?"

Steve stared up at him incredulously. "Just look at me, man." He motioned to his still form in bed. "I'm a fucking burden."

"No you're not! 'Sides, you'll be out of here in no time."

Steve looked at him gravely. "This doesn't end when I get out of the hospital, Soda. Even when I get out, I'll still be weak. My immune system will still be shot to shit. I'll still need takin' care of."

"Then we'll take care of you. We'd do anything for you."

"That's the problem."

"How is that a problem? You're family, man."

Tears started to drip down Steve's face and he shook his head. "I ain't _worth_ it, man. I ain't. Hell, even Evie knew it. She tossed me away and didn't look back."

Soda swallowed hard. This was the first time Steve had opened up about Evie.

"I loved her, Soda. I loved her so much," he choked out, lifting his hands to cover his face as he failed to retain the sobs building in his chest. He took a few deep breaths before dropping his hands. "I think I still love her," he said. "That's the sad part."

Soda bit down on his lip. "It's okay to still love her, Steve. That's not sad at all." He reached out and squeezed his arm gently. "Can I tell you something?"

Steve nodded.

"I ran into Evie yesterday. She's a wreck, Steve. She really feels awful, man, for what she did to you."

Steve's eyes looked hopeful for a brief second before turning solemn again. "She's better off without me," he grumbled. "Everyone is."

Soda balked at his words. "You gotta stop talking like that, Steve. Please."

"Why?" Steve challenged. "It's the truth." He was quiet for a moment. "You know, my dad being in rehab should be a good thing, right?"

Soda nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think so."

"I'm scared that it's not."

"How come?"

"Because what if bein' sober doesn't change him? What if he still doesn't want me?" More tears spilled out Steve's eyes. "What if I can't forgive him? What if I can't forgive my mom?"

"You don't have to forgive them, Steve," Soda said. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You don't owe your parents a damn thing as far as I'm concerned."

Steve raised a hand and pointed at Soda. "That," he said softly. "That right there is why I'm thinking about seein' this shrink."

Soda blinked. "What?"

"I think I need to talk to someone who can listen to what I have to say without attaching their own personal feelings to their opinions. Especially where my family's concerned."

Soda was speechless. What Steve was saying made a lot of sense. He wiped at his wet eyes and let out a sigh. "I guess you've had a lot of time to think about this."

Steve nodded and let out a deep breath. "You said you needed me to be okay," he said softly. He craned his neck to look Soda dead in the eyes. "This is me trying to be."


	27. Chapter 27

It was Monday afternoon, and despite their reluctance, both Soda and Darry had gone into work. Which meant Two-Bit and Ponyboy were on Steve duty.

"Hey guys, check it out."

Ponyboy looked up from his drawing to watch Two-Bit execute a perfect "Around the World" with the yo-yo Gerry had picked up for him.

"Congratulations, Two-Bit," Ponyboy said sarcastically. "That only took you two hours to master."

Steve chuckled. "Seriously, man. Aren't you bored with that yet?"

He hadn't set the thing down since Steve's uncle gave it to him that morning. He had stopped by, bearing gifts.

"It's a yo-yo, Randle," Two-Bit deadpanned. "Of course I'm bored with it. But there's nothing better to do while sitting around keeping an eye on your sorry ass."

Ponyboy knew Two-Bit meant it as a harmless joke, but Steve's face fell nonetheless. It was unnerving to Ponyboy that Steve had become so sensitive, when the old Steve Randle had such a tough exterior.

"You guys don't have to be here, you know," he said dejectedly. He bit down on his lip and stared out the window.

"We _want_ to be here, Steve," Ponyboy tried to amend, shooting a glare in Two-Bit's direction. "If you haven't gotten that through your skull by now…" He trailed off when sudden emotion caught in his throat.

Steve picked up on Ponyboy's unsteady voice, and turned his head back to meet his eyes, in awe. Two-Bit was looking at Ponyboy a little funny too.

Ponyboy popped his knuckles and gave Steve a shy smile before looking back down at his drawing. Gerry had picked up some brand new colored pencils for Ponyboy, so he decided to add some color to the sketch of the wolf he'd been working so diligently on.

Two-Bit cleared his throat awkwardly. "Are you still working on that same drawing, Pone?" he asked, taking a seat in one of the folding chairs against the wall. He stuffed the yo-yo into his jacket pocket.

"Yeah," Ponyboy answered, without looking up.

"Can I see it?" Steve inquired.

That surprised Ponyboy. In the past, Steve had been known – on more than one occasion – to call Ponyboy a "sissy" for drawing and writing as much as he did. Ponyboy set his pencil down and glanced in Steve's direction. "Uh, sure, I guess." He scratched his head and then crossed the room to hand the drawing to Steve.

Steve blinked his bleary eyes a couple of times before breathing out deeply. "Shoot, kid. This is… this is real tuff."

"Really?" Ponyboy asked, staggered at how elated Steve's praise made him.

Steve nodded. "That wolf looks fierce. Like nothin' can stop him. I wouldn't want to get in his way."

Ponyboy smiled. "Yeah. Me neither." He took a seat in the chair by Steve's bed. "You know, that wolf has a backstory."

Two-Bit chuckled from across the room. "You gave it a _backstory?"_

Ponyboy smirked. "Well, no. It's the wolf from that documentary they've been playing in the waiting room."

"Oh yeah," Two-Bit said thoughtfully. "I saw some of that."

Ponyboy nodded. "That wolf" – he pointed at his drawing – "got really injured while hunting a bison, and his pack abandoned him," he told Steve. "He had bite wounds up and down his legs. He couldn't even stand up."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Did he die?" he asked.

"Nope," Ponyboy said. "It was so cool, man. Another pack came along a few days later. And started huntin' these coyotes nearby and these two little wolf cubs got mixed up in it. That's all it took for the injured wolf to spring into action. He fought the coyotes off and protected the cubs, even though he was starving and in pain. After that, the new pack accepted him as their own."

"That's, uh –" Steve broke off as he handed the drawing back to Ponyboy. He was misty-eyed, clearly seeing parallels between himself and the wolf, just like Pony had. He cleared his throat. "That's really cool."

"Yeah," Ponyboy agreed softly, locking eyes with Steve as he took the paper from him. "Yeah, it is."

Two-Bit snorted and looked like he wanted to knock their heads together. So Ponyboy just laughed and punched Steve lightly in the shoulder, before returning to the table to put the finishing touches on his masterpiece.

* * *

Ponyboy was glad that Steve seemed to be on the upswing. If he continued to improve the way that he had the past couple of days, he was likely to be released from the hospital by the end of the week.

Steve was even feeling well enough to play a couple of hands of poker with Two-Bit and Ponyboy, before they were interrupted by two certain bright-eyed siblings.

Ron and Connie stood hesitantly in the doorway of Steve's door.

"Can we help you?" Steve asked, and it occurred to Ponyboy that they had never been introduced properly. But upon a double-take, it was abundantly clear that Steve recognized the boy. Ponyboy could tell by the way he tensed up, by the way his jaw fell slightly.

"Um, Steve, this is Ron and Connie," Two-Bit said gently, putting a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder. "Come on in, guys."

Ponyboy hastily picked up the cards and shoved them in the box.

Connie ran into the room and came to a halt right by Steve's bed. She was bouncing up and down on her toes, all smiles. "You saved my brother, do you 'member?"

"Connie, that's enough," Ron said, tugging her away from the bed so she wasn't invading Steve's personal space anymore. "Sorry, man," he apologized. He extended his arm for a handshake, keeping his other hand pressed against Connie's chest so she'd hold still. "My name's Ron. Do you, uh, _do_ you remember…?"

Steve was still looking a little shell-shocked and mystified, but to his credit, he shook the boy's hand. "Yeah, kid. Of course I remember you. But, uh… what are you doing here?"

"Their mom was admitted to the hospital last week," Ponyboy explained. "She had a pretty serious seizure. We met these guys in the waiting room of the ICU."

"Damn," Steve said. "Small world."

Ron grinned shyly. "I'll say."

"Mommy gets to come home today!" Connie said, practically bursting with joy. "But Ronnie said we had to come see you first before we go home."

Steve laughed. Connie seemed to have that effect on people. "Is that so?" He focused his gaze on the boy.

Ron swallowed hard. "Yeah. I-I wanted to thank you. Y-You know, f-for…"

Ponyboy's heart clenched as Ron started to cry. He was stumbling over his words like crazy.

"I'm s-so sorry," he breathed, hanging his head. "I just—"

"Whoa. Hey, hey, hey," Steve said lightly, pushing himself up a little straighter in bed. "Sit down, kid, will ya?"

Ponyboy stood up from his chair so Ron could have a seat. He took ahold of Connie's hand and he and Two-Bit stood awkwardly while Ron shuddered and sniffed at Steve's bedside.

"Uh, Pone? Two?" Steve said quietly, looking uncomfortable as all get-out. He jerked his head subtly at Ron. "Could you guys maybe give us a minute?"

"Aye, C'pt'n," Two-Bit saluted.

He ushered Ponyboy and Connie out the door to the common area of the ICU.

It was the perfect time and setting for Ponyboy to reflect on how his respect for Steve Randle had grown exponentially.


	28. Chapter 28

Darry hated when Steve started feeling ill from the medication he was taking, and right now, the kid was feeling _very_ ill. In Darry's opinion, the side effects of his medication were just as bad as the symptoms of sepsis themselves.

Darry wished Steve could take an anti-nausea pill, but he wasn't able to have one for another two hours.

Soda was doing his best to distract his friend, telling him what was going on at the DX and what Steve had missed while he was away. But Darry could tell that Steve was hardly listening. He was too preoccupied with the nausea. He would periodically make a noise in the back of his throat as his head hung over the emesis basin. The sound made Darry cringe.

"Steve, don't fight it," Darry suggested gently. "C'mon, man. You'll feel better if you just let it happen."

"N-No," Steve breathed. "Don't want to." He swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "Soda…"

"I know," Soda said quickly, reaching to rub circles in Steve's back. "Maybe you should try lying back down."

Steve just shook his head. He looked impossibly tired.

"Okay," Soda soothed. "C'mere." He slid up onto the bed and pulled Steve toward him so he could rest his cheek against Soda's shoulder. "We'll just wait it out. You're okay."

Steve closed his eyes and moaned in response.

Soda bit down on his lip and glanced at Darry with dejected eyes.

Darry shrugged hopelessly and they sat in silence for the next 15 minutes, just listening to Steve's labored breathing.

The silence was interrupted when they heard a quiet knock on the doorframe.

Steve opened his bleary eyes and gulped hard at the sight of his guest.

That was all it took.

He promptly threw up.

* * *

Evie Daniels watched in horror as Steve heaved and choked up bile before her eyes.

Darry stood. "Uh, hi Evie," he greeted awkwardly, just as Steve said, "Get her out of here," between heaves.

"Darry?" Soda prompted.

Darry ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, yeah, sure," he said hurriedly, and ushered the bewildered girl into the hallway, closing Steve's door behind them.

Darry stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. "So Evie, how's it going?" he asked casually.

That's when Evie's face crumpled and she began to cry.

Darry felt his palms go sweaty. He _hated_ seeing girls cry, especiallygirls he barely knew. "Oh, come on, don't do that…" he practically begged. "C'mon, Daniels, don't cry."

Evie sniffed, mascara running down her cheeks. "How can I not?" she asked miserably. "H-He didn't want to see me. Hell, he got _sick_ at just the sight of me!" She covered her face with her hands. "I shouldn't have come here."

Darry pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted and the last thing he wanted was to deal with _this_. "You're being ridiculous, Ev," he said, trying to be gentle, which was hard, knowing what she'd done to Steve. "C'mon. Let's go somewhere we can talk."

It was storming outside, so Darry had to settle with taking Evie to the ICU common room. He told her to take a seat and then handed her some tissues from a box on the end table. He waited patiently while she calmed down.

"Listen, Daniels, Steve didn't get sick just because you appeared. He's been feeling ill all evening. It was a long time coming."

Evie dabbed her eyes and shook her head. "He still didn't want to see me. He told me to get out."

Darry chuckled lightly. "Evie, I guarantee he only told you to get out because he didn't want you to see him get sick."

Evie sniffed, still not believing. "No, he hates me. And he has every right to."  
 _  
He still loves you,_ Darry wanted to tell her. That's what Soda told Darry, anyway. That Steve was afraid he still had feelings for Evie. But he felt that Steve should be the one to tell her that. So instead, he said, "Steve'll be willing to hear you out, Ev. Trust me."

Evie blew her nose in the tissue then wiped her eyes. "Can I ask you something, Darry?"

Darry nodded his consent.

"Have you ever felt so guilty that it… that it just makes you sick?"

Darry's heart skipped a beat at that question.

He knew all about feeling guilty. He knew about the weight that pressed down on his chest, the inability to sleep, the unanswerable question of _what if?_ It was something he'd been struggling with ever since the night Ponyboy ran away. The night he _drove_ Ponyboy away.

He blames himself for it, which makes it hard _not_ to blame himself for everything that unfolded following that night: Johnny stabbing that Soc, the church fire, Ponyboy getting sick… but the worst – the _worst_ thought that Darry has is that Johnny and Dallas would still be alive. They would still be alive if Darry hadn't raised a hand against Ponyboy that night.

It hurts him too much to think about.

So he shoves it down, swallows it whole.

"Darry?" Evie broke into his thoughts.

Darry shook himself and cleared his throat gruffly. "Yeah," he admitted hoarsely. "Yeah, I have felt that way."

"It's the worst, isn't it?"

Her voice broke and her shoulders started to shudder again with sobs. And Darry couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed softly. He reached out to take her hand – to comfort her – but she flinched away.

"D-Don't," she whispered. "I don't…" she trailed off, but Darry knew what she was trying to say. _I don't deserve it._

So Darry had to settle with putting a hand on her knee. "Look at me, kiddo."

She reluctantly raised her head and met Darry's gaze.

"You made a mistake. A big one. No one's denying that. And it killed me an' the guys to see how much you hurt Steve." He paused to take a deep breath. "But it looks like it's killing you even more."

Evie hung her head again as tears continued to slip down her face. "I wish I could take it all back," she blubbered. She turned her head so her face was resting against Darry's bicep. He could feel her tears as they seeped through the fabric of his shirt. "I just want him to be okay. I just…" she was crying too hard to continue.

Darry's heart broke for Evie. It truly did. The self-loathing was coming off her in waves, and Darry felt his gut stir with compassion and empathy. The girl sitting in the seat beside him was depressed and teetering on the edge of dysfunction.

He shushed her and turned his body so she could lean against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her trembling frame and pulled her close. "I know," he said into her hair and then planted a kiss on top of her head. "It's all going to be okay."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Evie asked, her voice muffled in Darry's chest. "Y-You barely even know me. And after what I did…"

Darry just hugged her tighter, and whispered in her ear: "I'm being nice to you, Evie Daniels, because you're incapable of being nice to yourself."

She pulled away from him, then. Her face was damp and wore a bewildered expression. She was clearly touched by Darry's words.

Darry placed a firm hand on her shoulder and craned his neck to look her in the eyes. "Listen to me, kid. You made a mistake. That's part of being human."

Evie swallowed hard and nodded. She swiped at her eyes.

"And you want to know something great about being human?"

Evie sniffed. "What?"

Darry grinned at her. "We're capable of forgiveness."

Evie licked her lips as those words sunk in.

"Do you really think he could forgive me?" she asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice.

"Yeah, Ev. I really think he could."


	29. Chapter 29

"You okay?" Soda asked softly once Steve sagged back against the pillows.

"No," Steve breathed, like Soda knew he would. He gazed at the doorway where Evie had been standing. "What was she doing here?"

"She came to see you, man. Remember? I told you I ran into her the other day."

A couple of tears slipped down Steve's cheeks. "I don't remember," he said dejectedly. "I don't..." he trailed off. "Soda..."

Soda cringed as his best friend began to bawl. Steve's hand was pressed hard against his closed eyes, like he was trying to shut out everything.

"Hey," Soda said softly, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "Look at me, Stevie."

But Steve shook his head.

Soda took the emesis basin from Steve's lap and set it on the table. Then he put a hand on Steve's neck and squeezed gently. "Do you want me to tell her to leave?" he hedged.

"No," Steve responded quickly, still struggling to hold back tears.

"Then what's going on, huh? You still feeling bad? Do you need me to get a nurse in here?" Soda knew that Steve usually felt better after giving into the nausea, so he wasn't sure what had caused his friend to become so upset.

Again, Steve shook his head at Soda's inquiries. "I'm okay," he breathed, but it wasn't very convincing over the sobs wracking in his chest.

Soda noticed the shake in his buddy's hands and thought he understood. "Just overwhelmed, huh?" he asked. When Steve nodded, Soda immediately drew him in for a hug.

He was surprised when Steve reciprocated and hugged him back with strength Soda didn't know he had. Fresh tears were hot on Soda's neck and Steve's stale breath was encompassing, but Soda wouldn't dream of letting go.

They needed this.

"I just want to go home," Steve whispered. "I just want this to be over."

"I know, man," Soda said, rocking Steve gently. "I know." He pressed his lips softly against Steve's temple and felt him relax at the touch.

Soda wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, just holding each other in an embrace.

It felt nice.

Much later, Steve sniffed loudly against Soda's sternum, and then started to shake.

It alarmed Soda at first…

…until he realized that Steve was laughing.

Honest to God _laughing_.

Soda pulled away from him then, so he was at an arm's length, trying to read Steve's expression.

Steve's cheeks were stained with tears, but sure enough, he had a smile on his face and was giggling wildly. Soda didn't know what to make of it. "Are you okay…? Steve?"

Steve wiped at his eyes and had to take a second to catch his breath. And then: "Can you imagine what Winston would say if he could see us right now?"

While the mention of Dally caught him off guard, the fact that Steve made a joke was what really threw Soda. He laughed in spite of himself and threw his arms back around his friend. "He'd probably ask us when we grew a pair of lady parts," he mumbled into Steve's hair.

"He'd knock our heads together," Steve agreed and squeezed Soda tighter.

They were still holding that embrace when Darry and Evie returned to the doorway, nearly fifteen minutes later.

* * *

"Okay, Steve, we're going to try and stand up now. Are you ready?"

Steve took a deep breath from the edge of the bed and glanced at Soda. A walker had been placed in front of him.

Soda nodded slightly from his spot by the door and gave him a reassuring smile.

The nurse and physical therapist were trying to get Steve up and moving again. Each had a hand behind Steve's back and they were planning on hoisting him up by the armpits.

Once Steve was able to walk 150 feet on his own, the staff would consider discharging him.

So Steve was highly motivated to stand. He nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"That's what we like to hear," the PT said encouragingly. "Okay, on the count of three… One… two… three!"

Steve pushed up from the bed and Soda and Darry held their breath while they waited to see if he would maintain his balance. The staff's hands hovered near him, but Steve didn't require any help.

He looked _good_.

He was _standing_.

Soda beamed and felt Darry squeeze his shoulder from behind him.

"How do you feel?" the nurse asked her patient.

"A little stiff," Steve answered honestly. "But it feels good. I feel good."

"No dizziness?" the nurse inquired.

Steve shook his head.

"Think you're up for a little walk?" the PT asked. He nudged the walker closer.

Steve swallowed hard, but nodded his consent. He reached for the walker.

That's how Soda and Darry found themselves walking behind their friend as he took a slow stroll down the hallway.

"He looks great, doesn't he?" Darry said softly.

"Yeah. Yeah, he does," Soda responded, voice catching in his throat.

And it was that moment – that exact one – that Soda knew everything was going to be okay.

* * *

"So how'd you leave things with Evie?" Soda asked, once Steve had settled back into his bed.

Darry and Soda had given them some privacy to hash things out, and when they'd returned, Evie was gone and the nurse and PT were in her place.

Steve let out a big sigh. "It was brutal," he said. "She couldn't stop crying and it just… it just made me so mad, Soda. I was so mad at her for bawlin' like that. She was the one who hurt me. She had no right."

Soda nodded. He understood that.

"I told her how much she had hurt me, how horrible it was to see her with that drifter. I yelled at her, man. Like actually shouted at her. And she just sat there and took it. Didn't try to make excuses or anything."

Steve chuckled and ran his hands through his hair.

"But while I was yelling at her, I realized something."

"Yeah? What's that?"

Steve sighed. "That she's still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. That even though she hurt me, I don't think I want to call it quits on us."

Soda raised his eyebrows. "So you're going to try and work it out? You're going to try and forgive her?"

Steve shrugged and started playing with the snagged string on the hospital sheet. "I told her I needed some more time to sort it out, and that I'd look her up once I'm out of here."

Soda felt a wave of hope wash over him. He liked what he was hearing. Steve had shown emotion today. That fight that was always in him was starting to resurface. And he was talking about getting out – going home. That meant he wasn't giving up.

"She does seem awfully sorry," Soda commented gently. "I think she still really cares for you, man."

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, I kind of got that vibe." He smirked. "Besides, it's not like I'm an innocent saint over here, right?"

"Hey, we're greasers, man. It's in our blood." Soda playfully punched Steve in the shoulder, just as he yawned. "You tired?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, that walk took a lot out of me."

"You looked great, man," Darry piped up from his spot by the door. Soda had almost forgotten he was there.

"You really did," Soda agreed. "I liked seeing you on your feet again."

Steve snorted lightly, as if he were embarrassed. "I had to use a walker," he said dully.

"So what? It's a start," Soda said sternly. "You had to start somewhere."

"Yeah," Darry echoed. "You'll be out of here in no time, brother."

Soda saw how all the tension seemed to melt out of Steve at his brother's words. He was nodding off.

Soda squeezed his shoulder gently. "Get some shut-eye, man. We'll be here when you wake up."

 


	30. Chapter 30

It was Friday afternoon, and Steve was coming home.

"Easy, easy," Darry instructed as he and Soda helped Steve past the threshold. He still wasn't completely steady on his feet, but he was overly eager to get inside.

"Welcome back, Grease!" Two-Bit proclaimed, standing up from his seat on the couch. Ponyboy stood up too, and the pair welcomed Steve with open arms.

Steve was all smiles as he made his way to the couch and took a seat, a look of contentment his face. "Ahh, I've missed this place," he breathed, taking in the scenery.

Ponyboy was sure it was a pleasant change from the hospital room.

"You hungry?" Two-Bit asked. He'd made some Kraft mac and cheese and heated up some frozen meatballs to go with it.

Steve shook his head. "Just tired," he admitted. It had been a long day.

"Steve, why don't you go lie down in your bedroom for a while?" Darry suggested. "You should get some rest before Gerry stops by later tonight."

"Okay," Steve agreed. It was clear he could barely keep his eyes open.

"I'll help you there, man," Soda said, offering a hand out to his friend. He pulled Steve up, and together they walked down the hall and disappeared out of sight.

The others trekked into the kitchen to have some dinner.

* * *

While they ate, a thought occurred to Ponyboy. "Do you guys think Gerry's going to ask Steve to move back in with them?" he asked.

Word on the street was that Steve's father would be getting out of rehab in two weeks, and Gerry had vowed to help him make the transition from the center to the real world.

It went silent. Darry set his fork down. "I think he might," he answered softly.

Soda licked his lips. "He might ask, but I don't think Steve will accept. Not right away, anyway."

"What makes you say that?" Two-Bit wondered.

"I just know Steve," Soda responded simply. "He ain't gonna go back there. Not yet."

That was all that was said on the subject.

It was clear Soda wasn't ready to let his best friend go.

If Pony was being honest with himself, he wasn't either.

* * *

Gerry didn't directly ask Steve if he wanted to move back in, but he did ask for his thoughts on the matter.

They were all sitting in the TV room watching the news when Gerry made the proposition.

Steve thought for a moment before answering. "Uncle Gerry," he said softly. "Pop kicked me out, remember? Just because he's in rehab, it doesn't automatically mean he's going to want me back. And my mom, she didn't even come to see me…"

Emotion caught in his throat as he trailed off, and just like that, all of the good vibes were gone.

"I know I said I didn't want her to come," Steve continued, a stray tear slipping down his cheek. "I guess I was just hoping she'd fight for me."

Gerry's expression softened and he reached to put his hand on the kid's knee. "Steve, kiddo, she _did_ fight for you. I wouldn't let her come because that's what I thought you wanted."

Steve covered his face with his hands, clearly humiliated that he'd let this discussion get to him. Soda, who was sitting on the other side of Steve, put his arm around his friend.

Ponyboy shared a concerned look with Darry and Two-Bit.

"The ball is still in your court, Steve," Gerry said, trying to assure Steve that there wasn't any pressure. "That's never gonna change."

Steve sniffed loudly and dropped his hands. He nodded slowly. "I think I'm just going to need some time," he said. "I-I think I just want to stay here while I recover and get a feel for things after Pop is discharged." He swallowed hard. "I mean, if that's okay," he added quickly, glancing at Darry apologetically.

"Of course it's okay, Steve," Darry said without missing a beat. His voice was sincere. "You know that."

"Yeah," Ponyboy echoed, while Soda pulled Steve in for a hug.

"Thank you," Steve mumbled into the crevice of his friend's neck. He gave Soda a tight squeeze and then pulled away. "I mean it," he said, looking them all in the eye. "Just… thank you."

He was met with a course of "sures" and "no problems" and "we love you mans," until Two-Bit jumped up from his spot on the floor and clapped his hands together.

"Well, as touching as all this is…" he joked, hastily wiping away a tear of his own. "Shouldn't we be celebrating?" He jogged over to the icebox and pulled something out. He grinned happily.

"Who wants cake?"

* * *

That night, Ponyboy stopped by Steve's room before heading to bed.

Steve and Soda had been in there for a while now, shooting the breeze like they used to. It was so good to hear them laugh like they had in the past.

"Hey, kid," Steve greeted when Ponyboy hesitated by the doorway.

"Hey," Ponyboy said shyly, looking down at his feet.

"You need something, Pone?" Soda asked.

"Uh, yeah," Ponyboy answered, stepping farther into the room, revealing something he had hidden behind his back. The drawing of the wolf was finally complete. "I - uh - I want you to have this," he said to Steve, extending the drawing to him. "I thought you could maybe hang it up or something. If you want to," he added quickly. "I mean, I just noticed the walls in here are pretty bare and—"

"Whoa, Ponyboy! This is amazing!" Soda exclaimed, grabbing the drawing before Steve could. "Steve, look at this!" He shook the drawing in Steve's face.

Steve laughed - a fully belly laugh that seemed to come from his toes. He took the drawing from Soda. "I know, man. It's way more tuff than all those horses he normally draws."

Ponyboy smiled widely, not even caring that Steve had taken a jab at him. Turns out he had kind of missed that.

"I'd love to hang it up, kid," Steve added with a softer tone. "You got tape?"

Ponyboy nodded and handed it over.

Steve folded some tape ontos each corner of the paper. "Where do you think I should hang it, Soda?" he asked.

Soda stroked his chin in mock consideration. "I think above the head of the bed is really the only option," he stated. "Pony, why don't you…"

Ponyboy nodded, understanding that Steve wasn't well enough yet to hang it himself. He took that drawing and reached up over Steve, pressing the paper firmly to the wall so it would stick. "Does it look straight?"

"It looks great, kid," Steve said with a yawn, and Soda agreed. "Thanks."

Ponyboy beamed. "You're welcome."

Sodapop stretched and then stood up. "You should probably get some shut-eye," he told his friend, patting his leg. "We'll leave you to it." He ushered Ponyboy toward the doorway, then paused briefly. He knocked lightly on the doorframe, trying to curb the emotion in his voice when he said, "It's good to have you back, Steve."

"It's good to be back, brother," came the reply.

Before Soda turned out the light, Ponyboy took one last quick look at the drawing of the wolf hanging above Steve's bed.

He knew that Steve's recovery had only just begun and that there was a long road ahead. Steve would continue to be put through trials and tribulations. He would still be fighting inner demons and some days would be harder than others.

But at least now he had a room that he could rightly call his own.

Ponyboy hoped that Steve could could look up at that drawing of the big, strong wolf and remember the meaning behind it. He hoped Steve understood that the gang was truly in his corner and they weren't ever going to let him fall. He hoped Steve could look back on all the pain and suffering he endured and say _I survived_.

And as the light flipped off and Soda and Ponyboy whispered their goodnights, that's when Ponyboy realized something.  
.  
.  
.

He had _hope_.

**Fin.**


End file.
